The Black Star
by Silver8
Summary: After his godson’s fourth year, Sirius Black must face not only the task of surviving the Ministry’s persecution, but also the presence of three 15 year-olds for three weeks. The past is catching up with him via Black Star... Chapter 10 is UP!
1. Default Chapter

The Black Star Chapter 1 

**Summary:** After his godson's fourth year, Sirius Black must face the task of surviving the Ministry's persecution as well as the presence of three 15 year-olds for three weeks. Not to mention that the past is catching up with him via Black Star, which includes reviving things he'd rather not think about and meeting people he thought he had lost forever…

A/N: This chapter is revised, due to lack of style and grammatical correctness. For those who have read this already, you can expect a major improvement. For those who haven't, let me point out that I'm aware that the fact that Stella Decartier's nickname equals my author's name may sound very Mary-Sueish. However, Stella has this nickname for plausible reasons of her own and it's not an attempt of mine to create some sort of wonderful and perfect alter-ego (which she isn't). So if you are willing to overlook this minor fact and want to read on, I wish you an enjoyable time!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

This story was inspired by Steve Perry's "Shadows of the Empire" and due to the events in OotP it's naturally an Alternate Universe.

***

**July, 1995** "And I'm telling you! The Cannons would have flattened the Wasps if their bloody Beater hadn't hit Starrey! I mean, you can hardly win without a Seeker, can you?" Sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour in the bright July sun, Ron was expressing his irritation about the failure of his favourite Quidditch team by ranting for good half an hour and gesticulating wildly with a spoon, making Harry, who was sitting next to him, flinch aside every minute or two. Harry didn't object, though, simply because he was too happy that he could be there with his friends instead of having to spend his holidays with the Dursleys. He had no idea as to how the Weasleys had convinced Dumbledore to let him stay at the Burrow where he wasn't protected by the _Praesidium familiae - _spell like with his blood relatives, but he was deeply grateful for their efforts, especially since his presence at the Burrow bore a certain risk for the Weasleys, too. But it seemed that despite the events at the end of the previous school year, the danger wasn't so acute because they had even been allowed to go to Diagon Alley by themselves. 

Hermione frowned at this point and interrupted Ron's fiery speech. "Isn't it the duty of a Beater to hit his opponents?" she inquired.

Ron opened his mouth to respond heatedly, but Harry was quicker. Stuffing a left-over piece of cake into his red-haired friend's mouth in order to prevent him from further ranting, he turned leisurely to Hermione and explained with admirable patience, "Theoretically, yes, but not with their fists like it happened in this case."

Hermione nodded in acknowledgment, not really caring anyway, the main goal of her interjection having been to cut off Ron. As she saw him swallowing the piece of cake, she made up her mind about a matter she'd been thinking about since Ron had begun his tirade.

"I'm going to buy myself a _Witch Weekly_," she announced, rising from her seat. "Let's see if there are more reporters of the likes of our _beloved _Rita Skeeter." She grinned. "Maybe you already have a new girlfriend, Harry, who knows?"

Ron snorted. "Or maybe they finally found out what he really does in his free time. Enthusiastically reading Playwizard Magazine, that is."

Harry nudged him in the ribs, colouring slightly under Hermione's curious gaze. "I do not!"

"Do too," Ron said with satisfaction at Harry's discomfiture.

"Do not."

"Do too."

Suppressing laughter, Hermione rolled her eyes and went to buy her magazine with thoughts like "Boys.", "Immature." and such crossing her mind.

"Any similar action to this one of you and I will tell her who exactly wrote 'I love HG' on that desk in the History of Magic classroom," Harry hissed to Ron who paled.

"You won't."

"I will. I _can _be evil."

"Harry, please," Ron whispered frantically. "Don't tell her, okay? Please? You promised!"

His friend rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. But see that you do something about that matter. I won't be watching you being lovesick much longer."

Ron's ear-tips went pink. "Yeah, well, I'm working on it, okay? Just let me do it my way."

"But if that way involves you boring us with Cannons-Wasps tirades and telling my secrets in public, then I won't play along. Understood?" Harry told him, still less than thrilled about Ron's handling of the situation.

"Yeah, loud and clear. Watch out, here she comes," Ron replied quietly, pointing to the left, whence Hermione was hurrying towards them, wearing a peculiar expression on her face.

"Look at this," she said as soon as she had reached them and put the magazine onto the table, pointing at its front page, which bore a single headline, accompanied by a picture.

_THE COMEBACK OF "MRS. BLACK", _the big fat letters read.

Ron and Harry stared.

"_Mrs. _Black?" Harry asked confusedly, associating the name with the only person he knew that had the same. "This hasn't anything to do with Si…, er, Snuffles, has it?" he added, dropping his voice so as not to attract too much attention from the other occupants of Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour. 

"He was also the first one I thought of when I read this," Hermione replied uncertainly. "But I don't know what connection…"

Ron moved the paper towards him resolutely and began to read the article inside it out loud.

"Stella Decartier, the well-known Head of Black Star, has returned to Britain last week, as her press spokesman informed us. Decartier, often nicknamed 'Mrs. Black' due to her relationship with the infamous Sirius Black, has lived in Canada in a sort of self-chosen exile for nearly 15 years, ever since Black's arrest in 1981."

Ron paused. "So there is a connection, and a very strong one at that, I would say," he commented, glancing at his friends who were listening to him in rapt attention. "What do they mean with 'relationship', I wonder?"

"Doesn't the article explain further?" Harry asked a little impatiently and beckoned his friend to read on.

"Decartier's return leads to a row of interesting questions. Why has she come back? Why didn't she appear two years ago when Black broke out of Azkaban? Has she or hasn't she been helping him to escape and to avoid re-arresting? What is her work in Black Star really about? Do we now have to fear 'Mrs. Black' as well? Hold on to your _Witch Weekly_ with the most exclusive information about the 'murderer's bride'!"

"Well, the writing style of this scandal sheet is really crappy, if you ask me," Ron remarked into the heavy silence that had descended on their table after he had finished reading.

Hermione was furrowing her brows thoughtfully, clearly attempting to figure out what the article meant and Harry was simply staring at the accompanying picture, as if he was trying hard to remember something. Nobody seemed to have heard Ron's last comment.

"Erm," he cleared his throat. "Any thoughts?"

***

**One week before…**

_Stella Decartier woke up as the first ray of the morning sun fell on her closed eyes. Since this was a relatively nice way to leave the realm of dreams, she smiled lightly and tried to sit up. At this moment, however, her smile vanished about as quickly as a Snitch when you wanted to catch it. The reason for this sudden swing in Stella's mood was the fact that a booming pain in her head and a dull ache in her left arm kicked in, both results of her two-day journey over the Atlantic Ocean – on a broomstick. Stella, who was neither overly fond of Apparating the way from Montreal to London nor of taking the complicated journey by Floo, had chosen her favourite mode of travelling and had been faced with an interesting challenge by a colleague of hers: Would she master the way within 50 hours?_

_She had succeeded, but at the cost of travelling almost without making stops and therefore getting so exhausted that she had drifted off to sleep for a few seconds and had fallen off her broomstick, right into the icy waves of the Northern Atlantic Ocean, a few miles before the Gulf Stream, which would have been at least warmer._

_The collision with the water surface had resulted in an arm injury which Stella couldn't classify more specifically (she just hoped it wasn't broken) and in a horrible headache. But Stella knew that she'd been, in fact, rather lucky. Falling down from 50 feet could have rendered her with a broken neck as well._

Somehow, she had managed to get back onto her broomstick and fly to her Glasgow flat where she now had to cure her injuries somehow. That was indeed a problem, for Stella was hopelessly anti-talented where Healing Magic was concerned. Her Healing spells had virtually no effect and considering the fact that Potions had been her best subject in school, her Healing draughts helped disappointingly little. Stella used to say that her anti-talent in this area of magic was a result of nature having forgotten some sort of fibre in her body; Sean Wraith, a colleague of hers and one of her best friends, used to say it was because she was too destructive a person.

Stella touched her bruised arm gingerly, pondering whether she should call Sean and tell him to get her into shape again, but finally she decided against it. She had been trying hard to conceal that particular inability of hers and the prospect of Sean healing her with a wave of his wand was too humiliating, even if he knew about her problems in this area of magic. Seeing a mediwizard was also out of question. The fewer people knew about her Healing anti-talent, the better.  

_Stella walked slowly over to the balcony and squinted into the morning sun that was bathing the roofs of Glasgow's buildings in warm, golden light. The scenery had changed surprisingly little over the past five years she hadn't been there. But that was irrelevant anyway. There were other, a lot more important things to focus on._

Like sleeping myself to health_, Stella thought, yawning and staggered back to her bed. Business would have to wait until tomorrow._

***

Harry and Hermione raised their faces to look at Ron, who was staring at them expectantly, awaiting their opinions.

"Well," Hermione began slowly. "I don't think that woman is actually Snuffles' _wife_. I mean, the article doesn't explicitly say so and we would certainly have heard or read it somewhere by now if she was…"

"But if she lived that far away and maybe wanted to keep it quiet?" Ron argued but got interrupted by Harry.

"Snuffles would've told me if he was married," he said in an attempt to appear firm, but then his certainty wavered. "Wouldn't he?"

Ron lifted his shoulders, unsure what to say. "Well, maybe there just hasn't been the right occasion, you know. I mean, how often do marriages come up in letters with somebody who's on the run and in hiding? _'Dear Harry, I've started living off rats again, Buckbeak's fine, weather's horrible, oh, and by the way, I have a wife whom I haven't seen in 14 years…'_ Unlikely to happen, if you ask me."

"But Snuffles doesn't seem the type to have married young," Hermione objected. "And back then he was, what? Barely twenty. She was more likely just his girlfriend. I mean, do you remember the time in The Three Broomsticks when we found out that Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid and Fudge falsely thought that Snuffles had been the Secret-Keeper? If this Decartier woman was so important, then they would have certainly mentioned her in some way."

"I suppose you are right," Harry replied, but he didn't sound convinced.

Having drawn a hand through his hair in a slow motion, he glanced up sharply. "I have to talk to him."

Knowing that he meant Sirius, Hermione pointed out reasonably, "But you don't know where he is, do you? Owl him."

Harry nodded, seeing sense in her remark. Sirius could be anywhere in the country, fulfilling orders Dumbledore had given him. Out of lack of something to say, Harry began to examine the picture on the page which showed a woman, apparently Stella Decartier, when suddenly a shadow fell on the trio and a voice resounded behind Harry's back.

"Ah, yes," Florean Fortescue said and the trio jumped at the sound of his voice, having been completely enthralled in their conversation. They glanced at him with surprise mingled with curiosity as he went on, pointing at the picture of the woman.

"Stella Decartier. I used to be friend with her father, so I remember her well. Sad story… and a prime example which confirms that love makes indeed blind. She had never believed in Black's betrayal… always claimed he was innocent, despite all the evidence that was against him…," he trailed off, shaking his head in a pitying manner and then turned away, continuing to charm off the glasses and cutlery left on the other tables.

However, his input hadn't given the trio any more clues, though it was interesting to learn that Stella Decartier considered Sirius innocent. 

_On what account,_ Harry wondered.

It wouldn't have been just love-blindness, as Florean Fortescue had claimed. Harry looked at the picture in _Witch Weekly_ again, tuning out his friends' voices, who were puzzling over Fortescue's statement. The photo was black and white and therefore showed both her hair and eyes as plain dark. Harry assumed they were originally brown. There was nothing outstandingly memorable about the woman's features and yet Harry had this strange feeling in the back of his mind that he had already met her. But if she hadn't even been in Britain for more than a decade?

Squinting at the photograph, he tried to remember. Who was this woman?

Suddenly, recollection hit him and Harry knew the name she had once told him to call her. Silver. 

Stella Decartier was Silver.

***

**_1971_**

It seemed as if every single inch of Platform 9 ¾ was covered by people, trolleys, owl-cages and trunks in various sizes. In short, the typical scene of September 1st presented itself to the observer's eyes.

"Hey, Sirius, would you be so kind as to help me?" James Potter called out to his raven-haired friend, shaking his head impatiently while trying to push his trunk into the train without much success.

Fortunately, Sirius had heard him, which was no mean task to accomplish in the buzzing of the crowd and went over to give James a hand, wearing one of his soon-to-be-considered-as-a-trademark lopsided grins.

"What's up, Jamesie-boy? Have we possibly overestimated our muscles?"

James groaned, but Sirius wasn't interested in troubling him further. While helping his friend pushing the trunk into the train, he was scanning the crowd for a flash of bright green.

There it was. Sirius grinned with satisfaction as he spotted Severus Snape, the target of his and James' previous joke. The two of them had known Snape from wizarding elementary school they had all attended, despite the fact it wasn't obligatory, before Snape had left to receive private tuition and they had never got along. That's why in James' and Sirius' opinion, Severus had been a wonderful opportunity to test a new Zonko's product, Sander's Super Slimy Substance, which had turned his head a brilliant shade of poisonous green after making contact with Snape's head thanks to Sirius. It also had the effect of making Severus look even more sour than before, but let's face it, with such a substance on the head, who would look pleased? Now, he was apparently looking for his parents to turn his hair back. James and Sirius sniggered without a shred of sympathy for the guy and made their way inside the train.

Lily Evans had been one of the first people on the train and had settled down in an empty compartment, feeling slightly dizzy with excitement. She supposed that she should be feeling nervous because there was a whole new world waiting for her but in fact, there had never been anything she had looked more forward to than to discovering the world of magic. Lily had never been one to fear new things, quite the contrary. She loved to face challenges and this was possibly going to be the greatest one in her life. Taking out the book with information about Hogwarts and the wizarding world in general she had got by owl post, a rather novel experience for her, she tried to run through the major differences between the world as she was used to it ("Muggle" sounded a bit weird to her) and the magical one.

"No electricity, moving pictures, loads of owls…"

She didn't notice someone entering the compartment and jumped slightly as the person spoke up.

"Don't forget vanishing rooms and changing stairs," said the dark-haired girl and grinned as Lily looked up curiously. "Muggle-born, eh? Don't worry, they usually settle in soon enough, from what I've heard. I'm Stella Decartier, by the way," Stella went on, extending her hand to Lily who shook it.

"My name is Lily Evans. Nice to meet you. Are you a first year, too?" she asked as both girls took place opposite each other at the window.

Stella nodded. "Yes. But fortunately, my parents told me some things about Hogwarts as they attended it themselves, so I won't be totally lost. I guess it will be much more difficult for you, huh?" However, she smiled to give Lily courage, although she didn't seem to need it anyway.

The red-haired girl had an air of self-confidence about her that Stella wouldn't have expected of somebody who had just been put into a completely new world for them. But she liked Lily's behaviour because it was similar to her own. New things were interesting, that was her philosophy and Lily seemed to be the type to share that view.

Stella watched as the other girl peered out of the window and then waved to a couple dressed in Muggle clothes with a sullen-looking girl who seemed to be about 13 standing beside them.

"Your family?" Stella inquired and Lily nodded happily, exchanging smiles with her parents who were looking quite nervous, in stark contrast to their relaxed daughter in the compartment who was about to head into a completely new world for her.

Still smiling, Lily sank back into her seat and fixed Stella with her green gaze. "What about your parents?" she asked amiably and got curious as Stella's face became closed-off. 

"They… we've said our good-bye's in the station hall," Stella muttered quickly in a tone that discouraged further questioning. She found Lily nice, but didn't feel like explaining why exactly her parents rather avoided the British wizarding public.

Lily just raised her eyebrows imperceptibly, but as she didn't want to pry, she went back to her book. Stella skimmed through the crowd with her eyes, trying and failing to discover a familiar face. But then again, after having lived in Canada since she had been two years old up until June that year, she would be unlikely to know British magical people. Except for…

Stella's gaze stopped when it reached two boys who were heaving a large trunk into the train. She didn't recognize the messy-haired one with the glasses, but the other boy looked quite like Aeneas Black on the photos her parents had shown to her. They had been good friends at school and had maintained some contact even during the Decartiers' forced stay outside of the British islands and that's why Stella knew a few things about Sirius Black. Her parents had spoken very enthusiastically about him which had had the immediate effect of making Stella dislike him despite having never even met him. Strictly speaking, though, that wasn't completely true because they had supposedly played with each other as little kids, but Stella couldn't remember, thus it didn't count for her. She hadn't been very pleased to learn that they would be starting at Hogwarts at the same time and now she hoped that they wouldn't be in the same house, at least. Because in that case, her parents would certainly want them to be friends and Stella wanted to choose her friends by herself.

Sirius, on the other hand, didn't know about Stella because his parents had never mentioned her or her family to him after the Decartiers had moved away. Their contact had been better kept hidden. Whether or not this knowledge would have affected him the way it had influenced Stella's opinion on him would have certainly been interesting to know. But since their point of view was similar when it came to choosing friends, it's likely that he would have anticipated their meeting with the same unfounded prejudices and antipathy the girl did.

Stella was startled out of her reverie by a sudden question from Lily.

"Are there any other schools for witches and wizards or is there just Hogwarts?" she asked, the idea having appeared in her mind after learning the size of her future school, which couldn't possibly be large enough to offer a place to every magical child worldwide.

"Er…." It took Stella a moment to focus properly on the question. "No, there are more of them, of course," she replied with a smile in order to make up for her earlier taciturnity. "In Europe, the largest save Hogwarts are Beauxbatons Academy in France and Durmstrang whose location is kept secret. Apart from those, there are a few other magical schools, but much smaller ones, like _La scuola della magìa _in Italy and the _Akadémie mágie _in Prague. I don't know about Asia and Africa, but there is a wizarding school in Peru and some are in North America, for example the Salem Institute."

"I see," Lily nodded in acknowledgement. "And what about…"

At this point, she was interrupted by two boys rushing into the compartment.

"Ah, lots of space here and beautiful company as well," Sirius commented and grinned as the girls raised their eyebrows at his words. "We can stay, buddy," he added, turning to James who smiled a little apologetically. 

"Hi, I'm James Potter and this is Sirius Black… I would ask you to excuse his manners, but nothing can possibly excuse him, so I'll rather save my breath."

Lily introduced Stella, who wasn't looking all too friendly because of her earlier-mentioned prejudices towards Sirius, and herself. Then she began to watch with interest as Sirius settled down, pulling out a monstrous, blood-coloured lollipop and starting to lick at it.

"You do know that those are supposed to be for vampires, Black," Stella remarked in a patronizing tone, wanting to sound superior.

However, Sirius didn't let himself be troubled by her tone in any way and went on licking calmly.

"Are they really blood-flavoured or do they just look as if they were?" Lily asked, turning to Stella.

But it was James who answered her question. "No, they really taste that way, I've been told. I bet Sirius a Galleon that he wouldn't eat a whole one, but it seems he's gonna win," he said, sounding slightly frustrated. Clearly, there weren't many things Sirius Black _wouldn't_ eat.

A little while later, a small, light-haired boy stuck his head into their compartment and asked shyly whether there was a place free. He was beckoned in and after the standard procedure in which he introduced himself as Peter Pettigrew, a first-year like everyone else in that compartment, the newcomer sat down next to Lily, opposite the two boys.

Sirius continued to lick at his lollipop serenely and Peter watched him with fascination mingled with ill-guised distaste and suspicion.

"Are you a vampire?" he blurted out suddenly and the others hid their grins at his question.

"Uh-huh," Sirius responded, completely unperturbed.

Peter's eyes became round and disbelieving. "Really?"  

"Yeah," Sirius nodded calmly, successfully managing to hide a mischievous grin. "After I'm finished with this, I will suck you out until you look like one of those crumpled Egyptian mummies, you know, nothing but skin and bone and maybe a little flesh in between."

Peter frowned at that detailed and flowery description, pressing himself against the back of his seat. 

"You're having me on. He is, isn't he?" he asked, turning to Lily who smiled at him comfortingly.

"Of course he is. I don't think they would allow vampires at Hogwarts," she said to reassure the boy who accepted her answer, albeit reluctantly. 

After all, he had heard from his parents that the Headmaster of Hogwarts was very eccentric. The idea of him admitting vampires to Hogwarts wasn't so unlikely. 

The rest of the journey passed rather quietly, not counting Sirius' and James' escapades which consisted of trying to do some magic (with moderate success), accidentally letting drop a Dungbomb which almost set itself off, scaring away the witch with the snacks trolley as a result.

"Well, this is bloody brilliant," Stella commented, annoyed. "Now I can spend the whole ride without food, thanks to you two." She glared at James and Sirius, crossing her arms in front of her chest, which, however, didn't have the intimidating effect she would have liked.

"You will survive it," Sirius replied in a way that suggested he wouldn't much care if the opposite happened.

He couldn't really be blamed for his attitude anyway for Stella had displayed her antipathy for him from the very beginning and therefore Sirius didn't feel compelled to be friendly, not that he ever did.

Stella sighed morosely and let her gaze wander over the scenery outside the window. It wasn't food she was craving, but a special sort of sweets – sugarquills, namely. They always had a calming effect on her and generally tended to cheer her up. Now, the absence of sugarquills meant bad mood. Stella realized that this might not be quite her day.

However, as the sky was turning darker and the train was approaching its destination, Hogsmeade Station, the gloom lifted itself from Stella's mind and got replaced by excitement. She was looking forward to Hogwarts, and felt very curious about the Sorting. Lily and the others seemed to feel much the same way, becoming increasingly fidgety and doubling the amount of glances thrown out of the window.

Finally, the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station and the crowd of students poured out onto the platform like a torrent of water, dragging Stella along, who was beginning to feel very tense. She didn't like crowds, the great amount of people in a small space, the buzzing and the smells making her feel nervous and somewhat sick. Therefore she didn't try to push herself through all the people as a large man ordered the first years to come over to him. Instead of following his command, Stella pressed herself against the train, shutting her eyes and waiting until the crowd dispersed. If she had opened her eyes, she would have noticed a brown-haired boy around her age standing some feet away from her doing pretty much the same – avoiding the throng of students.

Remus Lupin wasn't as affected by the people as Stella was, but if he could avoid being pushed around, then why shouldn't he? His well-trained ability of making himself small and inconspicuous helped him now.

Due to this reluctance, Remus and Stella were the last to arrive at the boats that would take them over Hogwarts lake. Hagrid beckoned them into a boat which had no other occupants apart from them and then took another one for himself.

Finally, the little boats took off and floated leisurely over the smooth dark surface of the lake which was reflecting the stars above.

In the second to last boat, Stella and Remus were sitting opposite each other without talking, occasionally throwing glances at the other and flashing a small smile. At length, Stella got tired of the silence and cleared her throat.

"Hi, I'm Stella Decartier," she told the brown-haired boy pleasantly and extended her hand.

Shaking it lightly, he responded, "Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you."

He flashed a grin as something occurred to him. "Your parents must've been into Astronomy, from the sound of your name," he remarked, hinting at the Latin meaning of Stella – star.

Stella nodded, grinning back at him. "You bet. They wanted to call me Cassiopeia first, but my great-aunt intervened and told them they couldn't do that to a poor innocent child. Ha!" She snorted, grimacing. "Then _she _demanded to choose my name and do you know whatshe chose?"

Remus looked inquiring. Stella, on the other hand, appeared scandalised. 

"Stella _Leandra_," she said with disapproval. "My name sounds like taken straight out of some trash romance novel."

Remus made a sympathetic face. "At least you're not called after a murdered Roman guy. Trust me, that's far worse."

His words made her grin again. "Your parents were into Latin, huh? Though of course my name's Latin as well, but yours…"

Remus gestured resignedly. "Dad's a Latin teacher," he said.

"That explains it," Stella replied wisely and then she smiled encouragingly, seeing Remus' vaguely gloomy face. "Hey, don't look like that! Your namesake was the son of Mars and his brother founded Rome."

The boy looked at her with one raised eyebrow. "He was _killed _by that oh-so-famous brother and I don't think it's so wonderful to be the son of the god of war."

Stella pulled a face. "Well, if you're determined to see the things so negatively…"

But Remus had been rendered in a good mood by their conversation and so he just laughed in response, causing Stella to follow suit. They didn't speak much after that, but it wasn't an awkward silence that descended on them, on the contrary. The little boat-trip would be remembered fondly by both of them in the future.

The following minutes passed very quickly which made the memory of them somewhat blurred. Having disembarked, the first-years were steered into the Great Hall for the Sorting and Stella found herself suddenly standing in a line with the others, wondering how on earth she had got there as the Hat sang its song.

_Sorting_, she reminded herself. _You're about to get Sorted._

Feeling curious, she peered over to the stool where the Hat was lying, now silent again and scowled at the battered piece of headgear. This rag was going to decide over her future? Oh, dear. Stella barely heard a voice calling out alphabetically the names of the students before her and the Hat's decision on where to put them.

However, at _Black, Sirius!_, she snapped back into reality and saw a stern-looking woman with square glasses gesturing Sirius forward. Stella watched as he put on the Hat nonchalantly and sat down on the stool. The Hat seemed to hesitate a little, but then it shouted _Gryffindor! _and Sirius went to Gryffindor Table accompanied by cheers and looking rather pleased with himself.

_Continuing the family line, isn't he? _Stella thought, once again recalling her parents' detailed narration in which they had also mentioned Aeneas and Diana Black having been in Gryffindor. Stella's mother had been there as well and her father, Lucas Decartier, had been a Slytherin. Under different circumstances, Stella would've considered Slytherin as a good option, but as she had heard mostly negative things about the Snake House, she wasn't very enthusiastic about ending up there. Eleven year-olds were very likely to adopt prejudices from their surroundings or build up their own and Stella was no exception. Her father had seldom really talked about his House specifically when giving his daughter a little insight into Hogwarts life. The girl before her became a Ravenclaw and Stella realized she would be the next. As she hadn't had the time to feel nervous before, the anxiety hit Stella now head-on and as she heard her name being called out, only a reflex made her walk over to the Hat and put it on in a daze.

Immediately, the soft, incessant murmur of the other students' voices subsided and Stella was faced with velvety darkness that seemed to envelop her mind for a moment. Suddenly, a keen voice resounded, sending shivers down her spine.

_A Decartier, hmm? _The Hat said meditatively. _Now where shall we put you?_

_***_


	2. Chapter 2

The Black Star

The Black Star

** **

Chapter 2

*1995*

... _Stella Decartier was Silver._

Harry's eyes widened. Memories flooded back into his mind. Memories of laughter, happiness and freedom. But they weren't complete. Harry just got some flashes when he closed his eyes. There was a big black fluffy something – a two – metre - tall _mouse _? But there was also a huge white fluffy thing that looked like a duck with a sailor cap on its head.

"What the hell..." Harry muttered and shook his head. Oh, perfect ! Now he was having hallucinations ! 

"Maybe this article shocked me more than I realized ..." he thought and looked up. Hermione and Ron were looking at him worriedly.

"What's up, Harry ? You looked like you were having an headache." said Hermione.

So he told them about the duck and the mouse and that somehow he liked that woman in the newspaper. Ron shot him a strange look.

"He's probably worrying that I'm starting to lose my mind." thought Harry sourly. But Hermione had a pensive expression on her face. She didn't seem to think that Harry was talking nonsense or losing his mind. Instead, she asked him cautiously if he remembered more. Like rollercoasters, for example. Or a castle. Or lots of people. And she seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. But Harry wasn't so sure. He gazed at her, looking puzzled.

Hermione got impatient. "Look. You like this woman – whatwashernameagain-" – " Silver." Harry replied dully.

"Yeah. If you like her, then you must've experienced some nice moments with her. – Not in _that_ way." she added quickly, seeing the doubtful expression on Harry's face.

Now he had to admit that Hermione was right. Harry closed his eyes and tried fiercely to remember. Finally, he found that Hermione had been right again. He indeed remembered a rollercoaster and a castle. And people who had been speaking a language he hadn't understood. When he told her that, Hermione just smiled and said "I thought so." Nothing more.

Harry and Ron became a bit irritated.

"Would you be so kind as to let us know your conclusion, oh Intelligent One ?" demanded Ron.

"It's rather simple. She must've taken you to Disneyland, Harry."

The boys stared at her – Ron with an expression that said "I've no idea what you're talking about." and Harry with an expression that said " Impossible !".

"I've _never_ been to Disneyland." said Harry in a convinced tone, " I mean, why wouldn't I've remembered it by now ?"

Hermione shoved his arguments with a wave of her hand away and wanted to reply. But she was stopped by Ron who suddenly held his hand up and said firmly, " WAIT. _What_, by Merlin's beard, is this 'Disneyland' ? Apparently, it's a Muggle thing since you both know what it is, but _I_ don't know and I really would like to !"

Hermione sighed and gave him a shortest- version- explanation. Ron didn't seem to understand every single thing, but he'd obviously understood enough because he asked no more questions after that.

Now it was Harry's turn not to understand something and of course, he used the chance and began, " I still don't understand..." – but Hermione cut him off.

"It's _really _simple. And if you'd be so kind as to let me _explain_, then we could get on with this whole Silver- business." she announced.

The boys looked at her encouragingly.

"Okay. Let's suppose Silver knew you and liked you. Then she would've wanted something good happening to you, wouldn't she ? So she took you to Disneyland and modified your memory after that so that you would only remember everything when you saw her again. Which you now did, on the picture." explained Hermione.

Harry didn't agree, "Why would she modify my memory like that ? It makes no sense at all !"

" It makes perfectly sense !" snapped Hermione, getting impatient. " C'mon Harry, _think _! You lived with the Dursleys who hated everything that had something to do with magic. If you'd accidentally slipped a word about a strange woman who took you to Disneyland, they would've known that she was a witch and locked you up in the cupboard until Doomsday ! And besides, if she'd really liked you, then she wouldn't have wanted you to be unhappy when returning to the Dursleys after a time you had spent with her and which you had obviously enjoyed."

" Okay, but why would she do something like that for me ?"

The whole situation still didn't make entirely sense for Harry. Even Ron seemed to understand it better. 

" Well, since she loved Sirius... I mean, you're his godson... and maybe she knew your parents too and felt it as her duty to help you in some way..." he said.

Hermione nodded. That was exactly what she'd been thinking.

Harry looked at then uncertainly. " Well, if you put it like that, then it indeed makes some sense..." he said slowly. " But why on earth has Sirius never _mentioned_ her ?" 

For that, they didn't have a straight answer save the one Hermione had already said before – " It was probably too painful for him."

But that one didn't gratify Harry in any way.

*1971*

_"Well, well, well. Stella Leandra Decartier... now that's interesting..." began the Hat._

Stella shuddered. This small voice was going to decide about her future. Oh, dear – please not Slytherin, she thought.

" Not Slytherin ? But why ? You could do very well there – with your ambitiousness ... but then Ravenclaw would suit you too – I've hardy ever seen anybody as bright as you are ... the young man before you was from the same kind, though. Hmmm ... you've also got a great deal of courage which shouldn't be ignored. Yes, that's the House for you – GRYFFINDOR !"

The Hat cried the last word out loudly and Stella walked over to the Gryffindor Table while the Gryffindors were cheering. She felt oddly blank. Not nervous anymore, not furious about the Hat's decision, but not particularly enthusiastic about it, either.

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful that I didn't wind up being a Slytherin. Although, being in the same House as Black doesn't seem very pleasant, either – he's a rival who's gonna be difficult to beat... if Mum and Dad didn't exaggerate, that is. I guess Ravenclaw _would've _been the best option..." she thought wearily and looked around. Since she liked nice buildings and had a sense for the beauty of architecture and design, she appreciated the looks of the Great Hall.

" It looks exactly like its name states – great." she said to herself while she was looking at the enchanted ceiling which showed the sky like it was outside. It was late and the stars had begun to appear. Stella smiled as she spotted her favourite star – Polaris the Northern Star. But her smile faded when she saw the constellation of the Canis Major.

" Sirius the dog star." she thought. Then she suddenly remembered a certain person and grimaced. " How can somebody like him have such a wonderful name ? That's one of the big mysteries of the universe I have to solve in my life..."

At that moment her train of thoughts was being interrupted by the Gryffindors cheering again.

Stella couldn't help but smile when she saw that it was Lily Evans whom they were applauding to. She had hoped that they would be in the same House. Lily took place next to Stella and they both continued to watch the Ceremony with interest. Shortly after Lily, two girls were Sorted into Gryffindor – Mary-Ann Goshawk and Elizabeth Hunter- Kensington whose name seemed to be longer than she was tall.

A few following kids were Sorted into the other Houses and the next two Gryffindors were Caroline Lenoir and Remus Lupin. Stella's eyes lit up at the sight of Remus coming towards the Gryffindor Table. She definitely liked him although she wasn't really sure why. It was as if they'd known each other for ages and not only for a few hours. " Soul-related." Stella thought amusedly as Remus sat down next and they sank into an animate conversation about what the Sorting Hat had told them.

Meanwhile, "McMillan, Jacob !" became a Hufflepuff and the twins " McNair, April !" and "McNair, Richard !" went to Slytherin.

The next wave of Gryffindors with " Patil, Daniel !", " Pettigrew, Peter !" and "Potter, James!" followed.

"Snape, Severus !" went to Slytherin, looking enormously pleased with himself and after "Zabini, Jean !" the Sorting Ceremony ended.

Albus Dumbledore raised from his seat at the Staff Table and began to speak, "Welcome to Hogwarts, all of you ! I guess that you're pretty hungry and can't wait for the Feast to begin, so I'll keep my speech short… To all the first-years and to those who might've forgotten : the Forbidden Forest is, like it name states, forbidden to enter as well as the Astronomy Tower except for the lessons held there. I hope you'll keep it in mind because our dear Prof. Sinistra told me that she's getting tired of shooing away kissing couples every night… let her get some sleep ! And now – let the Feast begin !"

Huge amounts of delicious food appeared on the tables and everybody served themselves, so that the Hall was soon full of chatter and the tinkling of the cutlery.

"Who was that ?" asked Lily curiously right after Dumbledore had resumed his seat again.

" _That _was one of the greatest wizards ever known… Albus Dumbledore – the Headmaster of Hogwarts." announced Stella solemnly and then laughed at Lily's reverent gaze.

" Dumbledore is a great man. Powerful wizard and nevertheless very kind." Remus added with a strange expression on his face. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore, he wouldn't sit here in the Great Hall now with his new friends – Stella and Lily as well as the three boys who had been in the same compartment on the train.

"James and Sirius seem to be real troublemakers – I guess we're gonna have some fun this year." Remus thought, grinning. " Peter is a bit shy, but that's understandable, I know how he must feel – everything is new here… . Lily and Stella seem to be very nice – especially Stella. I feel like we've already known each other for ages… strange. She's one of the rare kind of people in who's presence I feel relaxed…" he smiled, but his smile faded quickly when he recalled what would happen when she found out who he was – no, he corrected himself grimly – _what _he was.

By the time, everybody had been able to fill their stomach and the students were led to their common rooms and then their dormitories.

The Gryffindors ascended the marble staircase, passed the Fat Lady – "Leo aureus !" – and found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room. The first- years looked around curiously. The room was very cosy with a large fireplace and many overstuffed chairs and sofas.

After a few minutes, they were taken to their dormitories by the prefects who told them to go to sleep. Lily and Stella shared the room with Mary-Ann Goshawk, Elizabeth Hunter- Kensington and Caroline Lenoir. Mary- Ann introduced herself and Caroline. It was obvious that they had known each other before Hogwarts and were friends. 

Mary- Ann had long curls of black hair running down her back and piercing blue eyes. She looked as if she was quite aware of her good looks. Her friend Caroline had dark brown hair and eyes in the same colour. And, as Stella noticed, she lacked that irritatingly self-satisfied look on her face Mary-Ann had.

Elizabeth was exactly the contrary to Mary-Ann. She looked rather shy, had straight blonde hair and grey-blue eyes. Her small pale face was half-hidden by her long fringe and large glasses. She was also the smallest and thinnest girl in the room.

Lily and Stella were both slim and rather tall, but those were the only things they had in common outwardly. While Lily had flaming red hair, bright green eyes and the typical pale skin of the redheads, Stella had dark chestnut-coloured hair and her eye-colour was a strange mixture of light brown, green and grey. She was tanned from the summer sun and when the two of them stood side by side, they reminded people of dark and white chocolate.

The first-year girls found their trunks at the end of their beds and began to change before going to sleep. Stella examined the heavy scarlet-coloured curtains at her four-poster bed and then took her wand out. The others regarded her curiously because usually, first-years didn't do much of magic.

"Argenteus !" Stella murmured and the curtains and the bed-clothes became a silvery sort of colour. It looked beautiful. The other girls stared and Mary-Ann asked with raised eyebrows, " Why did you do that ? Don't you like scarlet ?"

" Oh, I do ! But I like silver better, you know." Stella replied cheerfully and grinned when she saw the respectful glances of the other girls. Changing the colour of things was a simple enough spell, but they couldn't know that.

" Stella- could you change the colour of mine's, too ? I'd like it to be pink." Elizabeth said timidly and blushed as Mary-Ann and Caroline snorted with laughter at the mention of 'pink'.

But Stella ignored them and gave her a friendly smile, "Of course."

"Roseus!" she muttered and Elizabeth's bed-clothes and curtains turned a light shade of pink – rosé.

"So." Stella grinned. "Anybody else who wants their bed colour changed ?"

"Yeah, me." Said Lily, grinning as well. " Emerald green, please."

Mary-Ann was shocked. " Green? But that's the Slytherin colour ! Along with silver ! You're betraying your own House ! And I don't think that you're _allowed_ to change the colour !" she looked accusingly at Stella who merely turned and changed lily's bed-clothes colour with " Viridis smaragdinus !" into emerald green. " Anybody else ?" she asked innocently, trying not to laugh at the sour expression on Mary-Ann's face. She could very well imagine her running to one of the prefects the following morning and complaining about the 'redecorating' Stella had made.

Caroline obviously didn't agree with Mary-Ann because she asked if Stella could change her bed-colour into violet. She smiled apologetically at Mary-Ann who glared at her and Stella changed the colour by muttering "Violaceus !" After that, the girls went to sleep.

There was a bigger chaos in the dorm of the first-year boys, though. Sirius had insisted on dying his bed-clothes, so that they were now checked with vivid yellow and bright orange spots, which was simply hurtful to look at. 

" I really don't understand how you're going to sleep in _that _! It's awful ! I would feel like being in hell or something…"James complained and seriously doubted his friend's sanity – like he had done an uncountable amount of times before. But he knew his friend well and therefore was certain that Sirius' bed-clothes were going to remain orange – yellow. " Sirius could be the King of Stubbornness." James thought amusedly.

Remus and Peter had been so wise and had given up to convince Sirius to change the colour again, but Daniel Patil kept arguing with him.

" Do the colours have to be so piercing ? I feel like I'm going blind every time I look at your bed !"

" Don't look at it, then." replied Sirius serenely.

" But – " Sirius cut Daniel off and said firmly, " Look. I wouldn't object if you dyed your bed-clothes pink – er, no, scratch that, I _would _object 'coz pink looks HORRIBLE – but I definitely wouldn't say anything against it if you dyed them, say, poisonous green, so leave me alone with that. We're living in a free country. I can do what I want."

"Do what you want ??" Daniel smirked." Hardly. But oh well, you'll see."

"It's obvious that he doesn't know Sirius." James told Remus and chuckled. "Daniel's gonna be veeery surprised. Sirius _always _does what he wants." And with that, the boys went to sleep as well.

Next morning, the Gryffindor first years met at the breakfast in the Great Hall where they also got their time-tables. Mary- Ann was complaining loudly about the changes of colour Stella had made the previous evening. She got unexpected support from Daniel Patil who shot and irritated glance in Sirius' direction and said, " I know _exactly_ what you're talking about. Black here insisted on dying his bed-clothes and curtains canary yellow and _screaming_ orange. It's horrible."

"Yellow and orange ? See, Mary, and you thought _I _was bad…" Stella cut in, grinning as she pictured the effect of those two colours together.

Sirius shook his head.

" I'm _not _bad – at least not worse than you ! I mean – green and silver ! You…you Slytherin-supporter ! Traitor !" he exclaimed mock-indignantly and hit the table with his fist for emphasis. Mary-Ann looked pointedly at Stella, not realizing that Sirius was making fun out of _her._

" If _I _am a Slytherin supporter, then you're supporting Hufflepuff…yellow is their colour." replied Stella evenly and started to eat her toast.

Sirius couldn't think of anything witty to say, so he shut up and became very preoccupied with his breakfast. But Stella saw that he was thinking and grinned inwardly. The battle had begun. And it promised to be very interesting.

Indeed, it seemed that something had just occurred to Sirius and he asked Stella, "The Sorting Hat seemed to think very long about where to put you in… couldn't it decide between Slytherin and Hufflepuff and so it just put you into Gryffindor because it didn't want to elongate the Ceremony ?"

Stella looked at him serenely." You mustn't make conclusions from what you've experienced, Black. Actually, it wondered whether to put me into Ravenclaw or not. It said that it had hardly seen such an especially bright person like me." Of course, she didn't tell him that the Hat had said he was from the same kind.

" Aw, really ? Especially smug would've been way more accurate… wanna see who's the brighter one of us two ?" he grinned self-confidently.

Stella was amused. " Sorry, but I never get into a battle of wits with someone unarmed."

Sirius' eyes narrowed and then suddenly widened as he fully understood what she meant. His sudden change of expression and the dawning comprehension on his face were so funny that James, Remus, Lily and Stella burst out laughing.

" Point for you, Decartier. But don't worry, I'll come back to this one." Sirius announced, sounding determined. 

Stella's eyes were sparkling with mischief. " Looking forward to that." She replied and continued to eat her toast. Lily, James and Remus exchanged glances. This year was promising to be _very _enjoyable.

_~To be continued…~_

_ _

_As always, please tell me what you think._

**_Silver_**


	3. Chapter 3

The Black Star

The Black Star

Chapter 3

Dedicated to PhoeniX who read the original chapter 1 first

*1995*

…_But that one didn't gratify Harry in any way._

He was eager to speak to Sirius in person, but he seriously doubted that this was possible right now. Still, you never know what was going to happen next. Maybe a big black dog would appear right there in Diagon Alley.

Harry looked at the article again. Stella Decartier, Head of Black Star… another unanswered question. What was the Black Star ? He'd never heard of something like that. So Harry asked his friends.

"Wait… Dad's told me once… yeah, it's an IWIS," answered Ron after a few seconds of thinking. His words caused Harry to look even more puzzled than he had before.

" An IWIS ??" he echoed.

" An International Wizarding Information Service," Hermione explained. Seeing Harry's unknowing expression, Ron added, "Espionage."

"Oh. I see." Harry muttered. He hadn't expected something like that. Had he expected _anything_ ? – he asked himself. No, he hadn't really given it a thought before.

So Silver was the Head of a spying organization – an Information Service, as it was officially called.

" That's why she is 'feared and highly respected'," Harry thought. " Knowledge is power."

And again he remembered her voice, almost repeating his own thoughts as she had once said to him, "Knowledge is power, but it can be deadly."

How very true, Harry thought bitterly. So many people had been tortured to death because they had known something Voldemort had wanted to know, too. However,Stella seemed to have avoided such a fate until now, for which he was grateful. After all, she was one of the few people that actually cared about him. And having the Head of Black Star caring about him, Harry realized that it was an immensely reassuring fact. He smiled and saw his friends looking at him inquiringly. 

" I've just realized that it's extremely relieving that there are such powerful people like Silver who care about me. It means higher safety for you two as well and for this, I'm grateful." he explained and saw Ron and Hermione smiling back at him. Suddenly he felt much better than he hada few minutes before.

Since the three of them had already finished with drinking and eating ice-cream and since they had already got their school stuff, they arose and went to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, they traveled via Floo Powder back to the Burrow.

After they'd stumbled out of the fireplace at the Weasley's, they were confronted with a rather unexpected sight. 

Remus Lupin was sitting with Molly and Arthur Weasley at the kitchen table and smiled as he saw the three of them coming out of the fireplace. 

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He heard Ron and Hermione draw in breath sharply, both surprised as well.

After a few seconds, he remembered his manners and managed to say, "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, hello Professor."

"Hello, Harry. And please call me Remus. This goes for you, too," Lupin told Ron and Hermione who nodded.

"Remus has come to make you an offer." Arthur cut in and looked at him encouragingly.

"Yeah. You know Harry, since Sirius is now staying at my house in Wales, we thought that you might want to spend the rest of your holidays there. Ron and Hermione are also welcome," Remus explained.

Harry's eyes lit up. He definitely liked the idea – but there was one thing…

" Arrangements have been made, of course, to ensure your safety and Dumbledore agrees with this plan. In fact, it was his idea," added Remus.

This satisfied Harry. If even Dumbledore had no objections, then they could go. He would see Sirius again ! More than that, he would get the chance to ask him about Silver. Remus looked at him expectantly. Harry grinned.

"I'd love to come," he said.

Ron nodded and said that he'd like to come as well. Hermione joined his opinion, but she told them that she would have to inform her parents.

"No need to, dear," said Molly Weasley cheerfully. "I've already sent them an owl. I'm sure they won't have any objections !"

Hermione looked doubtful. She just hoped that Molly hadn't written about Remus being a werewolf and Sirius being a convicted murderer who escaped Azkaban. She supposed this would shock her parents, despite the fact that the wolfsbane – potion made Remus safe and that Sirius was innocent. But oh well.

The three of them went to their rooms to pack their trunks. While packing, Harry was considering whether or not he should ask Remus about Silver. It was a big probability that he knew her, too. But then, Harry thought this was Sirius' business, so it would be better to ask him.

Of course, Harry couldn't know that it concerned Remus Lupin equally.

*1971*

…_This year was promising to be _very_ enjoyable._

After the breakfast, the Gryffindor first-years descended to the dungeon because they were going to have Potions.

At the moment they'd entered the Potions dungeon, they noticed a few other people already sitting there. It seemed as if they were going to have those classes with first-years from another house.

With the unpleasant looks on their faces, it became clear at once: Those people were Slytherins. The Potions Master told the Gryffindors to sit down and introduced himself as Professor Atrox. He was rather tall and had dark hair and dark bushy eyebrows that almost covered his glittering black eyes. With his nose that looked like a slightly crushed potato, he looked quite funny. But all the urges to laugh the students might have had were stopped when they saw his thin, cruel-looking mouth. Professor Atrox looked as if he was better not to get involved with.

Stella recalled her father telling her how much fun they'd always had in Potions with playing pranks on their teacher who hadn't been able to hold the class in bounds. Well, it didn't seem like Prof. Atrox was going to have the same problem.

Right now he was explaining how very difficult the Art of Potions-making was and that he assumed they were all dimwits who wouldn't understand it anyway. Okay, he didn't say it exactly like that, but that was how it sounded to Stella and Sirius who both hated to be spoken to so superiorly.

" An innocent little bit of Enlarging Potion could make his nose bigger… wouldn't that look better ?" wondered Stella mockingly, not knowing that Sirius was planning how to annoy Atrox as well.

The others seemed to have different thoughts. James was looking calm, he trusted himself to be good enough to satisfy even this teacher. Lily seemed to be a bit afraid of Atrox, but also ready to prove that _she _wasn't a dimwit who didn't understand anything. Peter looked simply horrified throughout Atrox's speech and Remus was worried. He just hoped that they wouldn't have to use Wolfsbane or pick some plants under the full moon.

Severus Snape was looking so smug as if he already knew everything about brewing potions and the other Slytherins didn't seem to be particularly afraid of Atrox, either.

Later it became obvious, why. The Gryffindors learned that Atrox was Head of Slytherin House.

"Weird. Dad told me that _his _Potions Master was also Head of Slytherin. Wonder if this is a kind of tradition ?" said Stella to Lily who shrugged, not knowing it, either.

After they had finished discussing the Pepper-up Potion they were going to make in their next Potions lesson, the bell rang and the Gryffindors hurried upstairs, looking for the Transfiguration classroom since their next lesson was Transfiguration.

They were awaited by Prof. McGonagall who introduced herself and then read each one's name out loudly from a list. A strange expression flickered across her face at the mention of 'Black, Sirius' and 'Decartier, Stella', but nobody noticed it.

McGonagall began to explain that Transfiguration wasn't easy and that they would have to listen to her properly and follow her orders. " It's for your own safety. Things can go horribly wrong in Transfiguration and not every spell can be reversed," she paused, glancing with irritation at Stella who was absorbed with reading a book and apparently hadn't been listening at all.

"Mrs. Decartier, could you please repeat what I've just said ?" she asked sharply.

Stella looked up and said calmly, "You explained the difficulty of Transfiguration and that we have to listen to you and follow your orders for our own safety. Things can go horribly wrong in Transfiguration and not every spell can be reversed." Stella quoted the last sentence and grinned inwardly as she saw McGonagall's eyes widen in surprise.

"She had been so sure that I was absorbed with my book and wanted to give me detention. Well, bad luck," the girl thought amusedly. But the Professor thought more than that and while she was telling the students to read the first three pages of their books, she watched Stella with interest.

" How interesting… she's been reading the book carefully, I can tell that, and yet she could quote me. Her father had the same ability," she smiled at the thought of the old days when she had been attending Hogwarts.

" Luke Decartier was known for it and drove the teachers crazy. Well, not only the teachers… since he was very bright, good-looking and a great mischief-maker … along with Aeneas Black who was from the same kind. I might've considered Luke as an 'option' even though he was younger, but then, he was taken by Lucinda Guarneri in his third year who didn't release him ever since then …" her smile became a bit regretful. Then she focused her attention on Stella again.

"She's got the typical Decartier eyes – this strange mixture of brown, gray and green. But she has Lucinda's skin and hair color… in fact, she bears more resemblance to her mother – outwardly. I guess she's inherited her father's character. Could be interesting, though… Lucy's Italian temper and Luke's coolness that almost verged on arrogance. Well, we will see. She's exceptionally bright, no questions there, but I suppose she'll turn out just like her father: mischief, pranks and certainly not studying…" Minerva McGonagall sighed and turned to look at Sirius.

" I wonder how they are going to get along… their parents were great friends, but Sirius and Stella haven't seen each other since they were only babies, they wouldn't remember that…

Apparently, Sirius inherited his father's good looks and his character with big probability, too. But he does have something from his mother. Diana Ravens always seemed to float rather than walk. And I've never seen an 11-year old moving so gracefully like this one. It's _weird_.

Well, with those two here, the teachers are going to have 'exciting years' *sigh*. The Potter boy seems to be rather mischievous, too… ah well. What has to come, will come." 

Prof. McGonagall finished her monologue and gave each of the students a pin that they were supposed to turn into a needle with the help of the instructions they'd just read.

James, Sirius, Remus and Stella didn't have a problem with that. But Lily managed to turn the pin into a needle only at her third try. She scowled and decided that she was not going to like Transfiguration. Potions had been far more interesting and the Charms book was simply fascinating… She couldn't wait for her first Charms lesson.

The other students did fairly well and after even Pettigrew had managed to transfigure his pin, the bell rang. Everybody hurried to the Great Hall for lunch.

James and Sirius sank immediately into a deep conversation about which prank to play on Atrox. Peter Pettigrew started wolfing down the delicious Hogwarts food which caused Lily and Stella to look at him with disgust.

Meanwhile, Remus was examining his time-table and saw that they were going to have Defense against the Dark Arts in the afternoon.

" Great ! That's something I've been looking forward to," he thought happily. Remus hoped that the DADA lessons would also help him to fight the darkness inside him. Being a werewolf had effects on him even in his human shape. The week before the full moon he always became more aggressive, more daring and felt and increased craving for meat. The next full moon would be on September 30th, in 4 weeks.

***

The DADA lesson went well. They were studying little Dark creatures who weren't very dangerous and their teacher, Professor Lovell Sheridan, had told them that they would start with Defense Charms soon.

" Normally, the first-years don't learn them, but in the current situation it's better when you start with them right now." Sheridan had told them.

He had meant the Dark wizard Voldemort who seemed to gather more strength and power from one day to another, as Stella explained to Lily afterwards. It was better to be prepared.

After DADA, they went to the Gryffindor Common Room. They had now some time until dinner would start and no homework to do, since it was the first day.

Lily and Stella settled down on two chairs near the big fireplace. Two Gryffindor third-years playing chess caught Lily's attention. Suddenly, she noticed something weird. Lily tugged at Stella's sleeve and gestured towards the two third-years.

"Look ! The pieces are moving by themselves !" she exclaimed. Stella cast her a mildly inquiring glance.

" So what ?" she asked.

"Well, in Muggle chess they don't do that. The players have to move them by themselves." Lily explained.

"Really ? But that must be a very quite game... you know, the wizarding chess pieces can also speak and they're always giving you tips. I've got a set myself. Fancy a chess game ?" Stella asked.

Lily agreed instantly. Self-moving and speaking chess-pieces ! If only her mum and dad could know, they would be amazed !

After a short while Stella returned with her wizarding chess set and they started to play. The first game was rather short. It took Lily only a few minutes to give Stella a checkmate. Stella's king started a tirade against her playing abilities. But this had been a mistake. Stella got irritated and banged her king's head against the chessboard in order to shut him up. He was rather dizzy afterwards.

Stella sighed resignedly.

"Chess has never been one of my strengths."

"Then it's time to change that," countered Lily, but Stella obviously wasn't in the mood to lose again. Instead, she got up and asked Remus if he wanted to play chess with Lily. He agreed and sat down opposite the two girls.

"Now. Watch and learn, Stella," commanded Lily. And so Stella did.

After ten minutes, she began to stir in her chair.

After the next five minutes had passed, Stella stifled a yawn.

Finally, about a half and hour after the start of the game, she had trouble to keep her eyes open.

" 'Watch and learn !' Oh yeah, sure ! The only thing I learned is that when you have problems with falling asleep, you should watch a chess game ! This is even more boring than watching grass growing ! Because the grass stops growing when winter starts, but it doesn't seem that this game is going to end so soon." Stella muttered to herself and stood up. She wanted to go to the library. The Hogwarts Library had an excellent reputation and she assumed that there were certainly some books that would interest her.

Stella had been right. There were quite a lot of books that would interest her. She chose to read 'The Rarest Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them – Expanded Version' first and returned to the common room with it. Within a couple of minutes, she became totally unaware of her surroundings.

" The extremely rare bicorn, a distant relative of the unicorn, can be found in the forests of Scotland where there were reported sightings throughout the century," Stella read. " It is, however, very difficult to get a glimpse at a bicorn. Being black-colored, it is very well able to hide in the dark forests. Originally from Spain, the bicorn is by no means as peaceful and gentle as the unicorn. Having two silvery colored horns, the bicorns like to fight with each other, which is their favorite pastime. They also have mischievous tendencies which makes it easier for people with a similar character to approach them." Stella grinned. She liked the sound of the bicorn's description and wondered whether there lived some of them in the Forbidden Forest or not. 

" One way to find out," she said to herself and then read on.

" One of the most powerful and mysterious dragons is the Canadian Albine which can be found in Northern Canada and Greenland. Even looking at it can be painful for the beholder because its pearl-white scales reflect sunlight and the gaze of its huge scarlet eyes is terrifying. With its height of more than 25 meters it's easily the biggest dragon ever known. It's very unusual in many ways, for example the fire it breathes is electric blue and freezing cold. Such a dragon is nearly untamable like most dragons, but there were cases in which a Canadian Albine made a friendship with a human. Those occasions remained, however, rare." Stella smiled. She had been part of one of those cases and it had been wonderful. Still smiling at the thought of the huge Canadian Albine she had been friends with, she sank into reading again.

" The Great Falcon Basilisk is one of the rarest and most dangerous creatures ever to populate the earth. Hatched out of a hawk's egg that was cared for by a viper, the Great Falcon Basilisk has a hawk's head and the body of a snake. It can be longer than 20 meters and it's body can be more than one meter wide. The Great Falcon Basilisk's weapons are his murderous stare like the common Basilisk's, its large beak and a sting at the end of its tail that contains one of the most venomous kinds of poison in the world. The most recent reports state that those creatures prefer to live in deserts like Sahara, Namib and Kalahari."

Stella examined the picture that was beneath the text critically and found that the Great Falcon Basilisk wasn't an ugly-looking beast. It was, however, a deadly beauty it had, she thought and suddenly noticed that she had skipped a few pages right at the beginning. The girl flipped back in the book and read on.

"The Aquaenix or waterbird, like it's sometimes called, is a 'cousin' of the more commonly known phoenix. They have similar powers like being able to carry heavy loads and having tears with healing powers, but instead of fire, the Aquaenix's element is water, naturally. When the end of its life comes, the Aquaenix will freeze and turn into an ice-statue. Then, after melting, it will be reborn from the water. The Aquaenix's beauty is equal to that of the phoenix. With its silvery beak, talons and eyes and feathers of indigo, royal, light, ultramarine and dark blue, it bears a magnificent appearance. The Aquaenix can be found in humid countries like Ireland, Scotland, Finland and Madagascar." Stella looked up and smiled again. She was thinking of her pet aquaenix Kaye whom she had found wounded about 4 years ago and cared for her until Kaye's wounds had healed. Normally, aquaenixes didn't stay with humans, but Kaye had done so out of friendship to Stella who liked the aquaenix like a human friend. Aquaenixes could fly very fast, so Stella used Kaye for mail-delivery too and hadn't bother to buy an owl. And by the way, aquaenixes were far more intelligent and beautiful than owls.

Stella looked at the next page where there was a picture of a blue dragon. She read on.

" There is only very little known about the Azure Dragon. It is as mighty as it's rare and so there are only very few mortal ones who met such a dragon and even fewer who survived that meeting. The Azure Dragon is not much larger than other dragons, but it is told that it can resist physical attacks much longer. The Azure Dragons are most likely to be found in the mountains of Tibet." Stella's eyes became dreamy. She'd love to see a real Azure Dragon, but this wasn't very likely to happen. She leafed the book through and stopped at the letter 'S'.

"The Scorpicore is the mightier cousin of the terrifying manticore. It has also a lion's body, a scorpion's tail and a human's face. It is, however, not tawny like the manticore, but blood-red. While the manticore is at most 1 ½ meter high, the height of the Scorpicore can be 2 ½meters and up. Being from the same kind like the Sphinx, the Scorpicore prefers the hot and sunny places and therefore can be found in Egypt, Libya, Chad and Niger.

"Mmmh, that's very interesting. Wonder if you can buy a Scorpicore for a pet. I'd kind of like that," said a voice above Stella's head and made her jump.

"Black ! Why are you lurking around like that ?" Stella was annoyed because Sirius had startled her.

"Am I lurking around ?" he asked with big, innocent eyes.

" Yes, you are ! What have you been up to ? Spying on me or what ?"

" Spying ? Me ?" he looked now, although it seemed impossible, even more innocent.

Stella narrowed her eyes.

" Why do you keep answering me with questions ?"

"Am I answering you with questions ?"

"Now you are just trying to annoy me," she snapped, irritably.

"Yeah," he said with a lopsided grin." And by the way, behold my success."

Stella glared at him and this made his grin get even broader. Lily and Remus who had been listening to the two of them bickering, raised their eye-brows meaningfully and grinned as well. Of course, they didn't know yet that they were going to do this very often from now on. Arguments could be very enjoyable for those who didn't participate…

~to be continued~

A/N: Alright, so it's 1:1 now… Sirius definitely wouldn't be unarmed in a battle of wits, would he ? In Chapter 4 we're going to learn whether or not Sirius and Stella are married. Are they or aren't they ? *ponders* I haven't decided yet… *grins*

_As always, please tell me what you think and oh yes, there are a few quotes from Draco Sinister, don't sue me, ok ?_

_ _

_Silver_

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	4. Chapter 4

The Black Star Jurik Ivan 2 2001-11-07T20:13:00Z 2001-11-07T20:13:00Z 10 4585 26136 217 52 32096 9.2812 21 6 pt 6 pt 0 The Black Star Chapter 4 Dedicated to Jade, the best beta-reader ever known 

*1995*

…_Of course, Harry couldn't know that it concerned Remus Lupin equally._

He couldn't know how great the friendship between Remus and Stella had been, couldn't know about the special bond that still connected them. So he didn't ask.

After they'd finished packing, Harry, Ron and Hermione descended the stairs and went into the kitchen where Remus awaited them.

Seeing them, he gestured towards the door that led outside.

"Ready ? Alright, we'll be off, then. Thanks Arthur, thanks Molly- we'll see each other soon, I suppose." he said.

Ron's parents nodded.

" Good-bye, dears. Have fun." Molly told the young trio.

Remus moved towards the door but was stopped by the puzzled glances Hermione, Harry and Ron cast him.

"Don't we travel vie Floo Powder ?" Ron asked.

Remus shook his head.

"No. My home isn't connected to the Wizarding Network in case somebody wanted to invade it that way. We'll have to travel by car. The ministry provided one that has… er, special abilities."

At the last bit, Molly frowned.

"Special abilities ? You didn't tell me about that !"

She looked accusingly at Remus, obviously remembering their old Ford Anglia. But Remus assured her that _this _car couldn't fly.

After that, they went outside and stuffed their trunks into the back of the car which had been, fortunately, magically enlarged. Then they all said good-bye to Ron's parents and left.

Harry had resumed the seat next to the driver's one and suddenly realized something.

"I didn't know you could drive…" he told Remus who smiled lightly and said,

" Well, I can. It was 'cool' when I was young and nearly everyone took driving lessons… some with more, some with less effectiveness."

"Professor…er, I mean Remus, where do you live exactly ?" asked Hermione curiously while fields were passing on either side of the road.

"It's in Dyfed, Wales. A small town called Wolf's Castle." Remus grinned. He knew exactly what they were thinking now.

"Suitable name, isn't it ? In the past there was a castle whose owner was rumored to be a werewolf… and there were always living wolf packs in the surrounding forests. That's how the town got its name." he explained.

That remained the whole conversation throughout their journey. Somehow, nobody felt like talking and so they all jumped when suddenly a voice spoke up from nowhere. 

It was Dumbledore's.

" Amicum vocare !" he said, enunciating clearly. " Remus, are you there ?"

" Yes, Albus. Harry, Ron and Hermione are here with me. No problems so far. We should be reaching Wolf's Castle in a few minutes." Remus said into the thin air, but Dumbledore had apparently heard him because he responded, 

" Very well. Inform me after your arrival. And you three, have fun at Wolf's Castle." 

The youths could almost see him twinkling and then the connection broke.

What was that ?" Harry asked. He'd first thought of some sort of microphone, but it wouldn't have worked, being surrounded by all that magic.

" That was a Vocatus Spell. You can contact a person no matter where they are. There are, however, places that are charmed so that this spell wouldn't work if you wanted to contact a person there." Remus said and left unspoken what they were all thinking. Azkaban was certainly one of those places.

They were driving through a hilly green area, when suddenly a sign appeared on left side of the road

" Welcome to Wolf's Castle !" it was saying. There was a head of a howling wolf painted beneath the words.

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at what Remus had termed 'town' in a fit of great enthusiasm. It was a cute, but small village with white houses with red roofs. It was really picturesque. They drove along the main street and out of the village.

After a curve, they saw it.

There was a majestic gray castle with two towers standing on a hilltop.

The youths gaped at it, lost for words. Remus chuckled, amused by the expressions on their faces.

"Well, I haven't exactly said that the castle didn't existed anymore, have I ?" 

Ron found his speech again.

"But… but I thought you were…"

"Poor ?" Remus interrupted him and Ron blushed, not knowing what to say.

" You were right," continued Remus. " The castle is my only possession and as you can certainly imagine, you need quite a lot of money to keep such a building in an intact state, … which was rather difficult when I had no job…" he trailed off. Harry, Ron and Hermione felt awkward but soon forgot it because their attention was caught by the magnificent appearance of the castle again. It wasn't very large, but it had some sort of aura that made it look slightly mysterious and rather imposing. It was built entirely out of stone and had a smaller building standing next to it which had obviously been the stables once.

After they had approached the gate to the castle grounds, Remus got out of the car and took out his wand. He waved it towards the gate and murmured something, apparently taking down some wards. Finally, he drove into the castle grounds and they all got out of the car, eyeing their surroundings with great interest.

The castle grounds were full of trees. The whole place couldn't be termed other than 'green'. There were even ivy ranks on the castle walls. Despite the mysterious aura the castle had, it seemed friendly, Harry thought. He noticed the same feeling of safety that he had had when he'd first seen Hogwarts.

Suddenly there was a creaking noise and the castle gate opened, revealing Sirius who came striding towards them with a broad grin on his face. Harry started walking towards him and after they'd reached each other, they hugged.

"It's good to see you, Harry." Sirius said softly and then took a step back.

"Welcome to Lupin's Lair, you three !" he said to Harry, Ron and Hermione, ignoring Remus' groan at his words.

But the trio found it amusing. Hermione chuckled and turned to Remus, looking inquiring.

"Is it really…  " she said.

Remus looked disapproving.

"No," he said, glaring at Sirius. "It's _not _the castle's name. But Sirius has found it clearly amusing to call it like that ever since his first visit here. I can't stop him." He sighed resignedly, but Sirius only laughed and put his arm around Remus' shoulders.

"Oh c'mon, Moony. That's just because we didn't find any suitable word that began with 'L'." he said good-humoredly and Remus rolled his eyes in mock-exasperation.

"So it's Malfoy Manor and Lupin's Lair," mused Harry, holding back his laughter.

" _I _think Lupin's Lair is better than Malfoy Manor any day," said Ron rather unexpectedly and received a grateful smile from Lupin and nods from Harry and Hermione.

"Yeah. And it's way better than Lupin's lavatory or Lupin's Laundry, too," agreed Sirius. Then he seemed to get another idea and chuckled.

"Or Lupin's Lingerie." He said, getting a bit insane. Remus rolled his eyes again and hit Sirius' arm.

"Letting you stay here was the worst mistake in my life," he complained, sounding slightly desperate. " What have I been thinking ? I must have been cursed, out of my mind, crazy, totally unaware of what I was doing…"

Sirius cut him off.

"So it's Lupin's Litany now." he said, still grinning.

"Yeah, but there will be Lupin's Lividness if you don't stop at once !" threatened Remus.

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other and grinned. They certainly wouldn't be bored on their stay at Lupin's Lair…

 Remus led them into his castle. The entrance hall wasn't nearly as large as the one in Hogwarts, but it was magnificent all the same. Tapestries were hanging on the walls, displaying scenes from the life of the past castle owners. There were some hunting scenes, one tapestry showed a dinner party and another one showed a man who was surrounded by wolves. But they didn't seem to attack him, quite the contrary. They were lying peacefully at the man's feet and the biggest one of them, obviously the alpha male, was sitting next to the man with its head in his lap. Harry looked at that tapestry, taken by the fact that wolves could be so peaceful in a human's presence. Remus who had followed his gaze, pointed at the tapestry. The other three came and looked at it, too.

"This has been my grandfather, Silvius Lupin. The wolves adored him. Of course, not only the wolves did. Silvius was a Switcher." he said. 

Harry cast him an inquiring glance.

"A 'Switcher' ?" he echoed. 

Ron looked puzzled too, but Hermione got the expression she always had when nobody knew the answer in class save her. Remus nodded at her encouragingly.

"The Switchers or Changers, like they are sometimes called, are people who can turn into different animals at will. They can understand and speak the language of any animal as well." Hermione explained.

"So it's like a higher level of being Animagus ?" asked Ron.

This time it was Sirius who answered.

"No. You can be born as a Switcher, but not as an Animagus whereas you can learn how to become an Animagus, but not how to become a Switcher." He said, looking a bit absent as if he was recalling something that had happened a long time ago.

"It seems unbelievable, but there are even Muggle Switchers. There are of course almost none who know about their ability – this goes for wizards too, though." Remus didn't miss the chance to sound a bit like his teacher -self .

" You mean, there could be quite a few Switchers in the world but they just don't know about it ?" asked Harry curiously. This matter interested him.

"Exactly. Being Switcher requires training as well as any transformation. You have to learn how to control your body, so that e.g. you won't change into the wrong animal at the wrong time." Remus responded.

Then he showed them the castle, explaining that he used only the first and the second floor of three.

"And the dungeon when it's full moon and I'm not here." Sirius added.

The bedrooms were all situated in the second floor and when Harry, Ron and Hermione entered their rooms, they saw that their trunks had apparently been magicked up there by Remus.

"You may make yourselves at home and the come down into the dining room, we're going to have dinner in ten minutes," announced Remus and then he left together with Sirius. They headed down the stairs towards the drawing room that was on the first floor, too.

The two men sat down into the chairs opposite the fireplace. Remus regarded his friend cautiously.

"Did you read the newspapers today ?" he asked, not looking at Sirius.

Remus had subscribed for nearly every existing wizard newspaper because news got hardly ever in time to Wolf's Castle if you didn't help yourself. He hadn't got a subscription for 'Witch Weekly', though, but he'd read it at the Burrow and didn't know whether or not Sirius had accidentally got his hands on a copy, too. It became clear when Sirius replied.

"Yeah, I did." he said and his voice sounded so bitter and unhappy that it made Remus flinch.

" _'One could also say Mrs. Black, regarding the situation.' _What do they know ? Nothing. They know nothing." Sirius continued with even more bitterness.

"How come you've read 'Witch Weekly' ? I don't have a subscription for that." Remus wondered which caused Sirius to smile faintly.

"Well, you do have. For about three weeks. You see, if you want to become part of the wizarding community, you must know the gossip as well. Knowledge is power." he explained.

Remus looked into Sirius' eyes.

"What do you think about that article ?" he asked softly.

Sirius turned his face away and focused on the fireplace. Remus could see his face harden and becoming unreadable.

"Well, she's still beautiful. She's hardly changed if that picture is up-to-date, that is," was all that he said. He didn't seem to be inclined to discuss that topic further, so Remus resolved to change it. He was just about to say something when a strange noise resounded. It was coming from outside the castle, more exactly from the direction of the stables.

And it sounded oddly like a neigh.

Remus looked at Sirius, who became suddenly very occupied with the crackling fire, with narrowed eyes.

"Padfoot ?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah ?" Sirius managed to look – what he called 'innocent', but his expression wouldn't have fooled a naïve child and it made Remus extremely suspicious.

"What did you do ? Did you buy a horse when I was away ? Did you _steal_ it ?" he asked sharply and suddenly became alarmed.

"For the love of Selene, Sirius… you're not holding a Pegasus captive, are you ? Or a unicorn? Maybe the King of the Unicorns himself ? Tell me !" Remus demanded.

Sirius made a denying gesture.

"The King of the Unicorns ? Are you crazy, Remus ? I know I'm good, but not _that_ good. Nobody can hold Coriolan captive," he said, shaking his head. Then, seeing Remus' soon-to-be-rather-furious stare, he continued quickly," I neither bought nor stole any horse. I was just looping through the forest and I found a young bicorn that was wounded. So I brought it here with me."

Remus relaxed at his words. Then the bicorn neighed again as if it wanted to confirm its presence.

"What's its injury like ? Did you do something about it ?" Remus asked his friend.

"Yeah, its left front leg is injured. Not broken, but almost. I put some of that stuff you use on injuries on it." Sirius told him.

"Good. We can look after the bicorn later," said Remus and at that moment Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the room.

"A bicorn ? What's that ?" asked Harry and couldn't help but thinking that this was the day he'd asked most questions in shortest time in his life. Well, maybe save the day he'd first met Hagrid and they'd gone shopping in Diagon Alley.

While Sirius was explaining what a bicorn was, they went to the dining room for dinner. The system was the same as in Hogwarts: The food just appeared on their plates.

After everybody had filled their stomach, Harry leaned over to his godfather and told him that he would like to speak to Sirius in private. Sirius nodded and gestured Harry to follow him. Remus, Ron and Hermione stayed behind and were soon absorbed in an animate conversation about Dark Arts. Sirius had led his godson into his room. Harry looked around curiously. It was obvious that this had been sometimes Sirius' room in the past. There was a picture of a motorbike hanging above the bed and Harry could see a book on the shelf that bore the title 'A Guide to Successful Mischief-Making' by U.R.Bad.

They sat down on two chairs that were opposite the bed and Sirius looked at Harry encouragingly.

"What is it that you want to talk to me about ?" he asked.

Harry took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how to express what he wanted to know.

"Well," he began. "I've happened to read 'Witch Weekly' today."

Harry looked closely at his godfather, but whatever Sirius might have thought at those words, his face betrayed nothing. He glanced calmly at Harry.

"Yes ?"

Harry shifted uneasily.

"Yeah… and as I'm really not good in asking people about such things, I'll make it quick and direct. What is there between you and Stella Decartier ? Are you married ?"

Sirius looked at him, still weirdly calm.

"No, " he replied quietly. "No, we aren't."

***

*1971*

Fights could be very enjoyable for those who didn't participate… 

Well, it was true, but only partly. All the teachers started soon to complain that the rivalry and hatred between Gryffindor and Slytherin had increased. Duels were on the daily order and James and Sirius got detention nearly every day for getting involved in a fight or playing pranks on Slytherins, mostly on Snape and Lucius Malfoy.

Lily and Stella kept laughing at the boys when they managed to get themselves caught at playing pranks over and over again.

"Well, being a Mischief-Maker requires having a brain," teased Stella one evening in November in the common room and got support from Lily. Although one must state that this support consisted of nothing but giggles… Lily wasn't the only one laughing, though. Most of the Gryffindors were laughing too, because James and Sirius had managed to get a Slime Shot backfire when they had wanted to use it on a Slytherin prefect. They were now covered with pink stuff that smelled horribly of strawberry-flavored chewing-gum. 

"Brain, yeah ? Oh, listen, all ye faithful – the Queen of Mischief has spoken !" Sirius snapped at Stella, losing his temper." I bet you can't even pronounce the word prank, so do shut up, you silly cow. You are not being helpful."

"Language, Black." Stella's voice was dripping icicles. " I will certainly NOT shut up. You and Potter are a disgrace to the whole House ! Kindly stop acting so stupid and trying to make mischief when you obviously don't know how to do it at all !"

Now James joined the discussion.

"Yeah, and I  suppose you know it veeery much better, don't you ?" he said with heavy sarcasm, giving both Stella and Lily who was fighting down an urge to laugh, an unpleasant glance.

"Of course she does," said Lily, sounding superior. "We both do. Girls are far more intelligent than boys. The sooner you realize that, the better for you."

Her words didn't seem to have the desired effect. The two boys just smirked.

"Show your abilities then, Oh-so-Intelligent-Ones. I'm sure that would be highly… er, _entertaining._" Sirius said, sneering.

Stella wouldn't have been Stella if she hadn't answered to such a challenge.

"Very well then. Keep your eyes open and watch how professional's work looks like."

With that, Stella turned on the heel and walked upstairs to the girls dorm, followed closely by Lily whose eyes were dancing with mischief now.

Actually, Lily hadn't been exaggerating at all. Stella had a whole arsenal of good ideas and ways to make them work.

"Alright, since we've just announced the start of our activity, it wouldn't be good to go after Black and Potter right now. They'll watch their backs if they are sensible," Stella mused.

"Although it's those two we're speaking about, so maybe they won't." she added as an afterthought.

Lily grinned.

"But still, it's better to be careful. Let's start with the Slytherins," she suggested.

Stella's eyes sparkled.

"And I've just got a wonderful idea of what we could do," she announced and then explained her plan quietly to Lily who agreed on it instantly, grinning all over her face.

***

Next morning, Lily and Stella descended the marble staircase down to the Great Hall and went to the Gryffindor table, looking enormously pleased with themselves. It was early and there were almost no students sitting at the tables, just a few Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff, James and Sirius and no Slytherins. The two Gryffindor boys eyed the girls suspiciously. They were slightly irritated by the expressions the girls wore.

"Now, what are you planning to do ? Bombarding us with dolls ? Or maybe flowers ?" James said mockingly.

Sirius sneered.

"Maybe they are going to _sing_… to make us go deaf !"

They both laughed, but the girls regarded them serenely.

"Oh yeah, go right ahead and laugh at us – you are going to be veeery surprised." Lily said smoothly and her and Stella started to eat, smiling secretively to themselves.

Meanwhile other students were arriving, but still no-one from Slytherin. Remus who had joined James and Sirius, made a remark about their absence which caused Lily and Stella to dissolve into giggles. But they flatly refused to tell anyone what was so terribly funny.

Suddenly, everyone's attention was caught by the Slytherins who were coming from the dungeon. Normally they came in small groups, but that morning it seemed as if the whole House was coming together. Some of them looked rather shaken, some disgusted, others even nauseated. But they all had one thing in common (except for being Slytherins, of course) : 

They were looking extremely furious.

Glaring at the other students in the Hall, they resumed their seats at the Slytherin table and started whispering excitedly among themselves.

Stella and Lily watched them, leaning back in their seats in a relaxed manner. They wore both an expression of faint amusement, but refrained from giggling or expressing their apparent satisfaction in some other way.

Remus looked at the Slytherins, then consideringly at Stella and Lily and said, "Whatever you've done, you've managed to get them really, well…"

"Horrified, shocked, sick, furious ?" Stella asked cheerfully.

"Discomposed, I was going to say, but the other four words fit, too," he replied and then asked what it was that the two girls had dome. 

Stella gestured Remus to come closer and explained something quietly into his ear. James and Sirius saw his eyes going wide and then a broad grin spreading over his face.

"Indeed," he said, still grinning.

"Okay Decartier, what sort of horrible thing did you do get the Slytherins so excited. Wait, you didn't really sing to them, did you ? Because then I'd stop being myself for a moment and actually feel sorry for them…," Sirius drawled, looking bored.

"His composure is really annoying," Stella thought and her eyes flashed briefly with irritation.

"But well. It's nothing I can't do either," she said to herself and went back to her previous, controlled state.

"Do you really want to know it ?" she smiled angelically at James and Sirius. " Coz I'm not sure you'll understand it… it requires imagination and intelligence – terms you might've heard in the past, but nothing that could be applied on a description of you."

The two boys glared at her, unable to think of a witty response at the moment. So James just made and impatient gesture and growled,

" Explain."

But Stella and Lily didn't seem to be inclined to do it at all.

"Explain ?" Lily spluttered with mirth. "Why on earth should we do that ? Try and figure it out yourselves."

With that, Stella and her stood up and headed for the common room, grinning broadly and looking irritatingly smug, in James' and Sirius' opinion. 

The boys turned to question Remus, but he was already gone as well. Sirius frowned.

"Remus didn't look all healthy this morning, did he ? Do you think he's going to be ill again ? I mean, he's been ill in September and in October…"

"Yeah." James agreed, looking worried. He and Sirius liked Remus. "I hope he hasn't got some sort of chronic disease or so," he said.

***

James' and Sirius' wish to know what sort of prank the girls had pulled was soon fulfilled. Before lunch, the whole school was talking about how some people (most ingenious or hateful ones, depending if you were a Slytherin or not) had managed to paint the Slytherin Common Room shocking pink and fill it with the horrible smell of cooked cabbage mixed with apple vinegar.

The most indignant one was Prof. Atrox, the Head of Slytherin. 

"This is an absolute impertinence ! When I find the culprits, I shall make sure that they will be expelled !" he snarled during the Potions lesson with the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years and stared furiously at the Gryffindors.

Sirius cast a sideway glance at Lily and Stella. He was impressed by their absolutely straight faces. They showed nothing. Sirius wasn't sure if he would have managed to stay that cool in their situation. Especially now that Atrox was eyeing Stella with great suspicion. She returned his gaze steadily, her face betraying nothing. James thought that he and Sirius should be mildly indignant that Atrox obviously didn't consider them to be the culprits, but instead he felt a growing respect for Lily and Stella.

"Stop that," he told himself sternly. "They're _girls _– and just having the luck of beginners." But he couldn't quite convince himself.

Sirius was having much the same thoughts. He wasn't, however, happy that the girls were better at pulling pranks than he and James were.

"Either we will come up with a grandious scheme for making mischief or our reputation will be ruined," he thought grimly.

James and Sirius were determined to show that they were the best.

Their determination wasn't completely useless. They began to plan their actions more carefully and in great detail. More than that, they became friends with Remus Lupin and discovered that hidden behind his shy and calm manner there was a sharp intelligence and amazing creativity. From then on, they started having success and there were less and less occasions for Lily and Stella to laugh at them.

***

It was nearly Christmas. One December evening, the Gryffindor first years were all in the Common Room, most of them mourning over their History of Magic essays. History of Magic was so fantastically boring that even Stella admitted it beat chess in this matter. And coming from her, that was quite a statement. If there was something she was absolutely bad at and not interested in at all, it was chess.

While James, Lily, Remus, Peter, Mary-Ann, Caroline and Elizabeth were busy writing their essays and sighing, Sirius and Stella weren't concerned about History of Magic at all.

Stella was sitting in an armchair, humming Muggle rock songs to herself and casting the working first years an amused glance from time to time. Sirius was lying on a nearby sofa, absorbed with his copy of "Which broomstick". One of the current Beaters of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team was in his final year and Sirius desperately wanted to take over that position. And for that, he needed a good broom. Knowing his ambitions because Sirius hadn't been talking about anything else for days, Stella peered over to look at the page he was reading and made a disapproving noise. Sirius turned to her and raised one eyebrow.

"You having a problem, Decartier ?"

"Me ? No. But you are going to have one soon. Look. These are British broomsticks," she replied.

"Yeah. So ?" Sirius didn't have a clue what she was getting at. 

Stella sighed despairingly.

"Howling Hecate, Black ! Don't you know anything about broomsticks ? Anyone who has some common sense wouldn't buy a British broomstick right now," she said slowly, as if talking to a rather dim person.

Sirius sat bolt upright. Stella had a way of talking that made him feel totally inferior. Nobody could make him feel like that, not even his father who could be very sarcastic and menacing if he wanted to. Of course, Aeneas Black didn't use that particular ability of his often and even more rarely toward his son. But still, when Sirius felt inferior, he got annoyed.

"Oh, yeah ? Well, you're certainly the right one to talk about common sense," he said with a voice full of such thick sarcasm that you could've cut it in pieces. 

His icy behavior often made even third-years uneasy, but it didn't have that effect on Stella at all. She looked just bored.

"Listen. British brooms are crap these days. Cleansweep 2 ! Comet 190 ! Shooting Starlet ! Slow, difficult to control, stubborn…" she seemed as if she could go on and on.

"They're not !" exclaimed Sirius indignantly.

The Cleansweep 2 and Comet 190 were Scottish broomsticks and being a Scot, Sirius felt that he should defend them.

"Are too," Stella was born in Scotland as well, but that didn't prevent her to see those broomsticks as they were – rubbish.

"Are not !"

"Are too. This is getting childish and ridiculous. It's proven, Black. There have been _tests_ !" she said, clearly showing how dumb she apparently thought he was. ( Although that wasn't what she thought at all, but you can't let your archenemy know that you consider him intelligent, can you ?)

"I don't believe you," Sirius said mutinously, knowing how childish he sounded, but unable to stop himself.

Stella rolled her eyes.

"Sure. When nothing else works, the total pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will always see us through."

Sirius glared at her. Then he said, despite himself,

 " Aha. So British broomsticks are crap. What would you advise me then, Oh-Well-Informed-One ?"

"French broomsticks. Or Canadian ones. Or maybe Argentinean ones, but the aren't easy to get." Stella replied promptly.

 Sirius who knew that she was half French and had lived in Canada, frowned.

"French and Canadian ? And you're being entirely impartial, aren't you ?" he said with irony.

"Black. You know perfectly well that the last good British broomstick has been the Silver Arrow. Unfortunately, they've stopped to produce it, otherwise I'd advise you to buy it." Stella explained patiently.

"Oh, such a big interest in my welfare ? How touching…" Sirius smirked.

"Listen, if it was just about you, I wouldn't say a word even if you wanted to buy a museum broomstick from the 12th century " But you are going to be on the House Team. Good Beaters with equally good brooms can influence a Quidditch games very much. And I want Gryffindor to win the Cup !" she said, now more intently. 

Stella could apparently care about something too, Sirius thought. Nut wasn't that what he cared about as well ? To win the Cup ? 

He sighed resignedly.

"Alright, Decartier. What do you recommend ?"

After some time of explanations, arguing and comparisons, they came to a decision. Sirius was going to order a 'Thunderbird', a Canadian broomstick and currently one of the best.

Stella went back to her armchair, looking clearly pleased with herself that she had been able to persuade Sirius who was now lying outstretched on the sofa again and leafing through 'Which broomstick'.

Suddenly Mary-Ann looked up from her essay and frowned as she saw the two of them lolling so lazily around.

"Say, are you two _ever _going to do some homework ?" she asked sharply.

Sirius and Stella cast her both a mildly inquiring glance.

"Really not your business," drawled Sirius out of the corner of his mouth and Stella looked as if she might've agreed if it hadn't been _him _to say that.

"I really don't understand how they're doing it," said Lily to the other first-years who were busy with their homework. " Not to do anything and still be among the best in class."

To tell the truth, Sirius and Stella didn't have a clue themselves. There was just the fact that remembering things was very easy for them. Also, they had no problem with writing an essay on the morning of the day it was due. But those abilities they had in common made them even more to rivals. While Stella would never try to be better than Lily and Sirius wouldn't want to beat James, they were the hardest opponent when trying to beat each other. The other first-years had got used to the fact that Lily and James were nearly always the first, closely followed by Sirius and Stella who often shared the second rank together, not much to their satisfaction.

That was the situation. There wasn't only the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. The hardest competition was between Stella, Lily, James and Sirius. They seemed as if they simply couldn't get along, whatever might happen. Soon their rivalry became sort of legendary and not only among Gryffindors. Whether or not that was a good thing, remained, however, unsolved…

~TBC~

_A/N: Now you know it. They _aren't_ married…I'll leave it to you to decide whether or not this is good ;-). As always, tell me what you like or not and if Sirius and Stella should get back together…_

_Oh, yeah – big thanks to Jade, my wonderful beta-reader, PhoeniX, Victoria Black, Kelly, ~*Alyssa*~, Sara the Great, meg, Amberblaze, binkle, QueenKitty84, Narcissa, FairyKisses, Kylesmom, Sarah Black, mery, jonshort, poptate12, Dayna, SugaryCheeseCube, PrincessAngel [ Let's agree on this : Sirius is OURS, ok ? ;-) ], Katie Black, *Britz* [ Aw, a silver room !! Great… I should paint mine silver too. And yes, I chose the name Stella because it simply fits in every way – you'll see ], pippy182, Lady Lupin [pranking contest ? How very right u are… ;-)]_

_Next chapter comin' soon…_

Silver 

****

_PS: Fifty points to everyone who guesses how L&S managed to paint the Slytherin Common Room pink ! Hint: They weren't there themselves._


	5. Chapter 5

The Black Star Chapter 5 

*1995*

_"No," he replied quietly. "No, we aren't."_

Harry nodded, not knowing what to say or think. Should he be happy or unhappy about it ? He had no idea. He looked up to Sirius who smiled at him comfortingly. However, the smile didn't reach his eyes that were dark with unhappiness.

"I know, I should've told you about Stella before but somehow, there has never been the right occasion …" Sirius trailed off.

Harry shook his head.

"It's okay, I understand that. Just tell me, is she maybe my godmother ?" he asked.

Sirius looked a bit surprised.

"Well no, but almost." Seeing Harry's inquiring glance, he added, "Charles Tharen, one of her best friends, had asked her to be the godmother of his daughter Jade who was born a few months before you, first. Stella couldn't very well say no."

"I see," Harry said, but he still looked as if something bothered him.

"Is there something else you would want to know?" asked Sirius gently.

He had a feeling that this conversation wasn't going to be short. But that was good. They had never had a chance to talk properly before and letters just weren't the same.

"Tell me something more about Stella," Harry said. He didn't want to ask Sirius about Lily and James right now because that would certainly remind him of the night they had died and of the years in Azkaban. Harry hoped that talking about Stella would awake some happy memories Sirius had.

***

Stella Decartier sat down on the sofa in her office in the Black Star Headquarters with a heavy sigh and massaged her temples.

"You back, Silver?" came a voice from above her head, speaking through the Vocatus-net  that could reach any room in the Headquarters. It was Sean Wraith, one of the Black Star Prime Generals and also one of her best friends for more than 20 years. He didn't wait for the answer and teleported himself into her office. It was impossible to Apparate into or out of the Headquarters, but Teleporting within the building was manageable. Teleporting was highly advanced Apparating, so most of the Black Star employees didn't use it anyway and went around on their own feet in the Headquarters.

However, being second-in-command made Sean an exception. He used Teleporting all the time and drove everybody crazy with his habit of popping into rooms all of a sudden.

Now he was looking at Stella disapprovingly.

"You look exhausted. I told you it wasn't a good idea to go there," he said sternly.

"And since when do I listen to anything you say?" Stella replied, smiling weakly.

"Sadly, that's true," he agreed. "But you really should. Look at you! A faint breeze would blow you off your feet. Did you at least find out something useful ?"

Stella hesitated.

"Well, most of them weren't able to tell me much…"

"Naturally. Every prisoner of Azkaban goes mad after some time. No point in asking them questions about Voldemort," Sean said and sat down on the sofa next to Stella who was looking at him with a blank expression on her face.

"Not _every _prisoner," she muttered quietly, as if talking to herself.

Sean shook his head. He knew of course whom she was talking about.

"You can't be sure. He probably isn't… but who am I kidding ? Of course he is ! He's always been insane and we all know that," he said, trying to sound cheerful. " But back to the main topic of discussion. Any useful information?"

Stella told him that some of the prisoners, former Death Eaters, had talked about Voldemort's habits and some of them even knew a few steps he had taken to achieve immortality.

"So the time I spent there wasn't entirely wasted after all. I didn't dare to hope that they would tell me anything… we might even go so far as to call this action a success. If you can call listening to the barely intelligible voices of prisoners, getting nearly mad by being surrounded by all those dementors and therefore getting utterly exhausted a success, that is," she said wearily and leaned back in the sofa.

"You know," she continued. "That was my first visit of Azkaban."

Sean was surprised.

"I didn't know that. I thought it's been part of the Auror training you've had."

"It would have been, in ordinary circumstances. But back in those days when Voldemort's activities escalated, they wouldn't let people visit Azkaban because of the danger that they could've helped the prisoners out. And well, after Sirius' arrest I was forbidden to go there because they feared I would free him in some way," she said in a tone that betrayed no emotion.

Sean shot her a sharp glance out of his clear gray eyes. He knew that whatever she might be feeling towards Sirius Black, she was doing a good job in hiding it. Not that Sean didn't know what she felt, but most people had no idea. He also knew that it was no use in trying to persuade her to go looking for him. Sean sighed.

"Stubborn, that's what she is," he thought.

"What about our new employee? How is he doing?" he changed the subject.

Stella's eyes came to life and sparkled.

"I have to state that he's doing better than I thought. A natural spy, he is. The training is going on very well. However, what bothers me is that he could be discovered easily and that would be his end," she explained with a sudden sorrow in her eyes that were now nearly as gray as Sean's.

He looked thoughtful.

"Say, did you hire him because we actually need him or just because you pity him ?" he asked.

Stella shifted in her seat.

"Well, I guess it was 50:50," she admitted. "But with the appropriate training he's going to be a very valuable agent, trust me."

Sean got up and smiled. "You know I do."

With that, he disappeared, using the Teleport to get back into his office.

A few seconds after his departure, Stella's office door opened and Draco Malfoy entered the room.

*1971*

_Whether or not this was a good thing remained, however, unsolved._

Christmas and New Year passed and everybody returned to Hogwarts full of energy. Lily focused on the schoolwork and became once again top of every class except for Transfiguration. It seemed like that wasn't really her genre.

"Stella, I don't know what to do. There's nothing I study harder for than Transfiguration and I'm still only average. I don't know why. Potter does nothing and yet he excels," she complained.

Stella patted her shoulder sympathetically. She knew exactly how it felt when your arch-enemy beat you in something. She herself didn't mind Potter so much as Black but Lily seemed to have developed an intense dislike of James.

"The way he looks around! The way he moves! 'Oh, look at me, I'm the best! Nobody is more clever than I am! I am the King of Mischief!' Strutting around and boasting, that's what he does!" Lily had obviously reached the point when she didn't want to control her temper anymore.

Stella just nodded along, although she privately thought that all of the above could be applied on Black even better.

"Hey, Lil', calm down. He's by no means perfect, we know that. Just think about how he's doing in Charms. You're the clear winner there," she said soothingly and her words caused Lily to grin triumphantly.

Stella was right. Lily was a Charms genius, whereas James wasn't really good at it. That had always been an immense satisfaction to Lily.

But James and Sirius weren't concerned about school success as much as they were worrying about their reputation as practical jokers.True, they were getting better from one day to another but still, they were often getting caught and most of the pranks they pulled weren't really that special.

Whereas every time Stella and Lily were in the mood of playing a trick, it was something the whole school would be talking about afterwards. In addition to that, _they got almost never caught._

On that February evening, James and Sirius were sitting in a corner of the common room musing over a new scheme that would allow them to pull pranks that were really 'bombastic', like James had expressed his dream of success. Normally, Remus would be sitting with them and contribute with his ideas, but that time he had decided to read a book instead. The moon cycle was in its first phase and so he didn't feel particularly mischievous and daring like he would feel in the last phase.

Suddenly, Remus noticed that someone had taken the seat next to him. He looked up and saw Stella who gave him one of her brightest (and rarest) smiles and said, "Hey, Remus! What's that you're reading?"

" 'Fighting that Dark Side' by Rowena Ravenclaw," he replied and felt himself smiling back at her. Stella had something that made it for him remarkably easy to be around her.

"Although I'm sure Sirius wouldn't agree with me at all," Remus said to himself, amused by that thought.

"I didn't know that Rowena Ravenclaw was that much of a fighter," wondered Stella.

Remus focused his attention on her again.

"Well, she wasn't, in fact. This book contains mostly theories… but it's fascinating to read all the same," he explained.

"You're simply a DaDA freak, aren't you?" Stella stated, laughing.

"My fave subject," he replied, sounding modest. Remus was a generally good student, but sometimes he impressed even Prof. Sheridan with his knowledge about Dark Creatures and other DaDA stuff.

Suddenly Stella's expression went serious and she looked directly into Remus' eyes. He noticed that they were now having the color of dark malachite. One couldn't really define the color of Stella's eyes. It changed from amber to warm brown, to all shades of green and sometimes her eyes were even gray like Remus'. For everybody who knew Stella, it was fascinating.

"Remus, I would like to talk to you," she announced solemnly.

He nodded.

"Here?"

"No, let's go somewhere else," said Stella and beckoned him to follow her. They climbed through the portrait hole and then went to a deserted classroom. Remus began to feel uncomfortable. What on earth could be so deadly serious that she didn't want to tell him in the common room? He felt a nagging fear creeping upon his chest and making his throat tighten. Did she find out about his secret? Was she going to hate him like everyone did as soon as they had found out?

"Er, listen Remus," she began a little hesitantly and then went on with more confidence. "I couldn't help noticing your monthly absences and… well, they troubled me. Either you were ill, or your mother or some other family member of yours was. That wouldn't be so unusual, but I noticed some other things, too. You were always nowhere to be seen when it was full moon and once, Mary-Ann touched you with her silver bracelet and you backed away as if it was burning hot…"

"She knows," Remus thought desperately and looked up, expecting to see disgust and hate in her eyes. Instead, he saw just concern and – could it be? Sympathy. This gave him courage.

"Yes, I am a werewolf. You've figured it out," he said, his voice wavering slightly.

"This is indeed… very interesting," she muttered, looking thoughtful. "How did it happen?"

And Remus told her his story: How he had been bitten when he had been nine years old, how everyone had been scared of him and had hated him ever since then and how glad, but also afraid he had been when he had learned that he would be allowed to attend Hogwarts.

"Nobody here except for the staff knows about it and if the students knew, I doubt their reactions would be positive," he finished, sounding unhappy.

Stella shook her head.

"I don't think so," she said firmly. "_I _for instance am neither afraid of you nor have I started to hate you."

Remus smiled uncertainly. "Thanks."

Suddenly, a slow grin crept over Stella's face.

"Say, where do you _go _on full moon nights?" she asked, having clearly one of her famous ideas in the back of her mind.

Remus explained the system of the Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack to her. Stella seemed to like what she was hearing.

"So they take you there before sunset and come for you after the next sunrise, right?"

Remus nodded.

Stella's eyes got a very mischievous glint.

"Listen, Remus," she began. "There's one thing you should know about me. I'm a Switcher. Do you know what that is?"

He knew. "Yeah. My grandfather is a Switcher, too. He's the only one of my family who isn't afraid of me," he sobered.

"Naturally, for you cannot harm him." Stella replied.

Remus cast her a puzzled glance.

"What do you mean?"

"You see, when you're in your wolf shape, you can harm only humans. Humans in _human_ form," she explained.

Dawning comprehension placed itself on Remus' face.

"So I'm no danger to Switchers in their animal form," he repeated as if he wanted to assure himself.

"Or Animagi, for that matter." Stella added, nodding.

Remus didn't know what to say. He was positively surprised.

"That's …cool, really. I mean, it's very comforting indeed," he muttered. 

An idea struck him. Maybe he could persuade his parents to let him live with his grandfather. They didn't like the old man very much because they were a bit afraid of his ability to communicate with animals and to transform into any of them at will. But Remus supposed that they would be only too eager to get rid of a werewolf.

Stella's voice broke his train of thoughts.

"I was thinking that maybe you could use some …well, company on full moon nights. I mean, there's not much to do for a werewolf in a house, is there?" she said.

Remus' eyes lit up.

"You mean, you would stay there with me in your animal form?" he asked hopefully.

Stella nodded. "Yeah, why not? But we mustn't tell anyone, okay? The teachers wouldn't allow that," she warned.

For once, the first-phase-Remus absolutely didn't care that they would be breaking about a dozen rules. He was just happy that somebody had accepted him like he was.

"I've never looked forward to the full moon," he said with a grin. "But now I do."

Stella gave him another warm smile. A 'smile no.1', as he had begun to call them.

Now that he didn't need to be anxious anymore, Remus' curiosity took over.

"Tell me more about being a Switcher. Is it hereditary?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes, it can run in families. Both of my parents are from families where Switchers are quite common, so I was very likely to become one, too. It's a bit like the wizard-or-muggle business, you know. Any family could theoretically have a member who's a Switcher as well as Muggle parents can have a magical child." Stella explained.

Remus nodded. "I see. How do you notice that you're a Switcher?"

"Well, you understand the language of any animal no matter if you've had training or not. For being able to _speak _all those languages, you need practice of course, but generally, people learn fast. It's also necessary to receive some instructions and training before you can transform properly. But this learning phase isn't that long because the transformation is natural to us, so to speak," she told him.

This subject definitely interested Remus. Knowing now two Switchers in person, he wanted to learn more.

"How many Switchers do exist?" he asked and took place at one of the tables. Stella sat down as well, expecting it to become a rather long talk.

"How many… well, there are not so many of them who actually _know _about their ability. People have forgotten how to listen to animals properly. When they hear i.e. a dog yelping, they hear the yelp and it's not intelligible for them. If they really concentrated, they would understand. Some people make an effort and discover what they are, but there are fewer and fewer who do that. I guess that many people don't even know anymore what Switchers are. But do you know that there are Muggle Switchers?"

Remus looked at her incredulously. _Muggle _Switchers? How should that be possible? But so it was. 

"Yeah," Stella continued. "There are some. But most of them think that they're having hallucinations when they accidentally overhear an animal conversation. They tell themselves they were imagining things and ignore the animal talk from then on. But it's the exception that confirms a rule. Do you know who Francisco of Assisi was?"

The name sounded familiar to Remus, but he couldn't quite place it. He shook his head.

"He was the founder of the Franciscan Order, a community of Muggle monks. And, he was rumored to be able to speak with animals."

"So he might've been a Switcher." Remus mused.

Stella nodded. That was what she'd been thinking. They lapsed into silence. After a few moments, something occurred to Remus and he asked Stella, "How come you are so completely at ease with me being a werewolf? Is it just because of you being a Switcher or have you met werewolves before?"

Yes, Stella had. She told Remus about her parents having werewolf friends and about the Salem Institute, the wizarding school she should have been originally attending.

"You know, they accept werewolves, veelas and sometimes even vampires there. My friends who were older than me went to Salem and when they had their… well, non-human friends staying over the summer, I got to know them too…" she trailed and smiled, obviously remembering the good time she'd had back in Canada.

Some time had passed since the beginning of their discussion and Remus and Stella realized it was time for dinner. They got up and headed for the Great Hall where they found Sirius and Lily glaring at each other.

"What?! Now I'm not even allowed to defend myself??" Lily hissed, her eyes flashing.

"He used a simple Furunculus Charm on you, Evans! No need to nearly take his head off!" Sirius replied angrily.

"Oh, so you finally gave Potter what he was asking for all the time, Lils?" Stella cut in. "Good on you!" 

Sirius shot her a death look, but didn't dare to cast a spell because McGonagall was looking into their direction from the High Table.

"Where _is _James, by the way?" Remus inquired.

"In the Infirmary." Sirius explained, sounding furious. "Our dear Ms. Evans almost blasted his head off when she reflected the spell with triple force. Trust me, you don't want to see James right now."

Sirius turned around and went to the Gryffindor Table. Remus followed him with an expression of suppressed amusement on his face. Even though James was a good friend of his, he couldn't help but grin at the thought of someone being hit by a Furunculus Charm reflected with triple force.

"Poor James," he told Sirius. "His good looks will be gone for some time."

Sirius nodded.

"Yeah. But considering the situation, he's been quite lucky. For example, his hair couldn't get possibly worse than it has already been," he said and both of them grinned.

Meanwhile, Stella was pondering whether she should go to the hospital wing to take a look at James' face, but then she resolved not to. She wasn't in the mood of encountering a livid James Potter.

"Say, how did you manage to reflect that spell _and _increase the damage it would do?" she asked her friend.

Lily laughed. "You know what? I've got absolutely no idea." She replied cheerfully and went over to the Table with her friend following her.

Stella was grinning.

"1:0 for Lily this time," she thought. "Potter will have to think of something. Trust him and Black to do something very annoying."

But Lily and her would be on the alert. They always were. Well… nearly always.

~to be continued~

A/N: So there's not only the enmity between Sirius & Stella. James and Lily don't like each other, either… well, at least not yet.

_Next chapter: More about Stella and Black Star and what on earth is Draco Malfoy doing in the Headquarters?? One would think that he's too young to be a Death Eater and to come and kill the Head of Black Star… well, the youth of nowadays ;-)_

_Ah yes, flashbacks from later years should follow._

_Please review!_

_Silver_


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry that it took so long this time… but on the other hand, this chapter is four times longer than my usual ones. Enjoy!_

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1**The Black Star **

**Chapter 6**

_I know you'll never stay the same_

In time most of us lose it 

_But I'm hoping just the same_

_You'll shine and learn how to use it_

_--- Mike Oldfield, "Innocent"_

**_*1995*_**

_Harry hoped that talking about Stella would awake some happy memories Sirius had._

Unfortunately, this didn't come true entirely. Even though Sirius' eyes sparkled at some moments of his narration ( especially when he was describing what sorts of tricks they used to play on Slytherins together ), Harry got the impression that Sirius didn't feel comfortable at all when he was forced to think about Stella. Quite the contrary, he rather focused on the adventures they had had when the Marauders had planned something with Lily and Stella after they had all overcome their 'dislike' of each other. Not that it wasn't interesting to listen to. Harry had many opportunities to laugh, but still, he had hoped to find out more about Stella.

"But see it positively, if Sirius focused on her now, you wouldn't be hearing so much about your parents," he told himself.

In addition to that, it wasn't like that was the last opportunity to ask Sirius about the past. They were going to be together in Lupin's Lair until the end of the holidays. Harry would have enough time to find out what he wanted to know. Only at that moment he had no idea how _much_ he didn't know. 

It was nearly 11 p.m. when Sirius stopped talking. He had just finished telling Harry about the glorious Quidditch final in his 6th year where Slytherin had been blasted away by the Gryffindor Team. Harry wasn't sure whether the expression 'blasted away' was meant only figuratively or not. However, he forgot that thought at the moment he slid into his bed. Suddenly he felt very tired. It had been an unusual day, after all. First the article in 'Witch Weekly'. Then this invitation to spend the rest of the holidays with Sirius. The discovery of Lupin's Castle - who would've thought? Harry smiled. He was glad for Remus that he had at least one precious possession ( that Harry knew of ).  Switchers. Bicorns - Harry made a mental note to go and look at the bicorn in the morning. He was curious about its appearance. And then this talk with Sirius about times of long ago…  Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face, thinking about a 16- year- old Snape singing Christmas carols at dinner in the Great Hall in the middle of May and being unable to stop it…

***

_… he's going to be a very valuable agent, trust me."_

_Sean stood up and smiled. "You know I do."_

_With that, he disappeared, using the Teleport to get back to his office._

_A few seconds after his departure, the office door opened and Draco Malfoy entered the room._

"Hello boss," he said casually.

Stella glanced up and remarked, smiling, "10 o' clock sharp. Not bad, Draco. I appreciate your punctuality."

"Thanks," he replied, eyeing her cautiously. He hadmade the experiencethat after a praise Stella usually gave him something difficult to do.

"Wonder which part of the training will take place today," he thought while Stella was gesturing for him to come closer to her desk and to look at a small object she was holding in her hand.

"Do you know what this is, Draco?" she asked, following his examining glance.

The object was a small whistle made of a silvery sort of metal. Draco, who was aware of Stella's fondness of silver, both color and metal, grinned.

"A silver whistle, eh? How very much surprising that you possess a thing like that," he said with amused irony. "Trust you to have even a silver toothbrush."

Stella raised an eyebrow.

"You think so? Shows what you know, _young_ Mr. Malfoy. The color of my toothbrush is green and this whistle isn't silver, either. Do you notice the bluish shimmer? It's made of cobalt," she corrected him and asked again if he could tell her what it was.

Draco took a  closer look at it. It seemed like an ordinary, 5 inch long whistle with 4 holes. But then he noticed faint lines on it. They looked like some sort of writing to him, although he couldn't read it. The image was, however, familiar to him. He supposed that he'd seen something like this before... in a book, maybe. Draco narrowed his eyes in concentration. Suddenly, something occurred to him and he looked at Stella with surprise.

"Is that a _'dragon whistle'_?" he asked her.

She nodded. Draco eyed the small object respectfully. Stella cast him an amused glance. Seeing Draco with a respectful expression on his face was a very rare occasion indeed. 

"Considering your reaction, I take it that you know what is its purpose," she said serenely.

Draco nodded slowly, carefully taking the whistle with his left hand. He had a slightly wishful expression on his face when he answered.

"They are used to summon dragons. Depending on the melody you use, you can summon a whole herd of them, or a group of a breed your choice, or a single specific dragon." 

Then he added with a smirk, "But as dragons are untamable, people usually have some ... problems after using such a whistle. Dragons follow the command of its sound, but then they want to be rewarded as well."

"Exactly," Stella said, took the whistle and blew a short melody. She didn't seem concerned about the result at all.

Draco shot her a skeptical glance mingled with worry. Did she know what she was doing? Because_ he_ certainly was neither in the mood nor in the shape of encountering a free dragon, let alone a whole bunch of them.

They both stood there in Stella's office waiting and after some minutes Draco had the impression of hearing a distinct flapping of big, leathery wings. He had just started to feel_ very_  uneasy when suddenly an yellow eye as big as a dinner plate appeared behind the office window. Shocked, Draco took three steps back and nearly fell over at the sound of the sudden shatter of glass and the roar of the dragon that had managed to stick its head into the office and  was now eyeing the boy curiously. Draco cast Stella a terrified glance and then continued to stare at her unbelievingly. Not only she hadn't done so much as to flinch at the sight of the dragon, she even approached it calmly and stroke its flat nose! The creature seemed to like it and made a noise that sounded quite like the motor of a very big motorbike. Stella murmured something to the dragon Draco didn't understand and then she turned to the boy, grinning. Draco didn't consider the situation funny at all and scowled. Stella's grin became even broader.

"Draco, meet Sandro!" she said, clearly enjoying the situation and gestured him to come closer.

"There's nothing to worry about. I told him that you're a friend, so he won't harm you," she said as Draco approached the dragon cautiously, his eyes now full with interest. He liked dragons, after all and because of his name, he always felt as if he was linked to them in a way. But dreaming about dragons and encountering a real one were two very different things. 

"Don't worry," Stella told him encouragingly. "C'mon, stroke his nose. He likes that."

Casting her a doubtful glance, Draco extended his hand reluctantly and touched the dragon's skin with his fingertips. It was warm and dry, similar to a snakeskin. It was quite nice to touch and as the dragon didn't seem inclined to bite his hand off, Draco calmed down, the tension that had been in his shoulders easing. Taking a closer look at the dragon he found that it was a beautiful animal. It had shiny scales in a dark blue sort of color and bright yellow eyes like torches. From the broken window, Draco could see the rest of its body. It didn't resemble a lizard so much as the Hungarian Horntail did and it wasn't so heavy-built like the Welsh Green, either. Sandro had a slender muscular body, shimmering horns lining his spine from the top of his head to the end of his tail and a wingspan of what seemed to be around 40 feet. The impressive appearance of Sandro the Azure Dragon deserved nothing less than the description 'magnificent'.

"Wow," Draco muttered.

"That's exactly what I said when I saw him for the first time," Stella's voice from behind his back.

He turned around without stopping to stroke the dragon's scales and asked, "How come that he's so peaceful? How did you  tame him?"

"I didn't," Stella replied. "Dragons _are_ untamable, they always were and they always will be. But Sandro regards me as a friend and he won't harm people I tell him not to out of friendship to me."

"I see," Draco nodded thoughtfully. He wondered whether he was able to make a dragon like him as well.

"Now," Stella continued, "What I want you to do is getting better acquainted with Sandro. I want you to find out how dragons think, what they like and don't like, how you can get them to let you ride on their backs and basically, how you can persuade them to do what you want. Don't worry, you can take as much time as you want and need. I know that it isn't easy to become friends with a dragon, but it's a part of your training and it might come in handy."

She smiled encouragingly at Draco who gave her a much weaker version of her smile in return. He was starting to think that Stella over-estimated him a little.

Spying, physical combat training, psychology lessons - okay, all that was manageable, but discovering how to become friends with a dragon without getting eaten or reduced to a smoldering little pile of ashes was a bit too much to ask of him.

Stella seemed to know what he was thinking because she smiled again and said gently, "I wouldn't set you a task that you can't master. Let your self-confidence work! Sandro likes self-confident people if they aren't too smug."

"Yes, I'm sure self-confidence gives a special touch to the taste of human flesh," Draco said sarcastically, misinterpreting her on purpose. "And I'd love to see a person who manages to be smug when a 20-metre dragon is towering over them," he added sourly, but Stella didn't change her mind and just laughed.

"True. And now, you can go outside to the HQ grounds. Play with Sandro. Talk to him. He'll understand you even if you don't speak Dragonish. Have fun!" she said and opened the door to her office for Draco to leave. He left a little reluctantly, dreading the meeting with the dragon alone. But then, Stella wouldn't put him into mortal danger intentionally, would she? 

After the door had closed behind him, Stella turned to Sandro and said in Dragonish, "Better not breathe your fire at him, Sandro. It's enchanted so it won't do any damage, but he might get the wrong idea that he's resistant to dragon fire and that wouldn't be of advantage. Nothing is more dangerous for an agent than self-overestimation."

Sandro made a grunting sound that could be interpreted as approval and then left to wait for Draco farther in the HQ grounds. The grounds were huge and contained not only the building and a large forest, but also lots of free space. Sandro and Draco were supposed to go to a clearing not far away from the building.

Stella mended the broken window with a wave of her hand and took place at her table. She put her chin in her hands and stared off into space for a moment, thoughts whirling her brain. Involuntarily, she recalled the day she had first spoken to Draco. Stella's mind went 10 days back into the past…

**_*1995, about ten days before, quite at the beginning of the holidays_**_*_

Draco was lying curled up on the bed in his room and trying to forget the pounding in his head and the searing pain in his arm, but he hadn't had success so far. You didn't become resistant to pain even if you were used to it.

"I hate him!" Draco thought fiercely, closing his eyes. His father was getting worse from one day to another. That day had been the worst so far. Lucius Malfoy had been informed that the Ministry had given order to search the Malfoy Manor for Dark objects and similar things. The problem was that there wasn't enough ´space in the room under the drawing room and in his rage, Lucius hadn't even thought about enlarging it by magic. He had started a tirade against the fools at the Ministry but had been interrupted by his wife who pointed out coldly the very obvious: _enlarging the room by magic_ and putting some Covering Charms on it. Her coldness and reasonability had shut Lucius up. It wasn't commonly known, but he actually respected his wife. Draco had always thought about it as a miracle because Lucius usually had no respect for anything and anybody, well maybe except for the Dark Lord. After Narcissa's interference he had seemed to calm down a little, but in fact he had done so only outwardly. Since he couldn't have very well outlived his anger on Narcissa and the house-elves had been nowhere to find, there had remained just one target - his son. Draco was quite used to the bad temper of his father but he couldn't remember seeing (and feeling) him acting worse than he had done that day. Lucius' favorite way of unloading his frustration was to encounter his son with reproaches about his failures in general and at Hogwarts, specifically. Moreover, he liked to point out that Draco was a consistent under-achiever and that he, Lucius didn't understand how he could have such a loser for a son. The whole shouting and insulting usually ended with beating. Draco had stopped counting the times his father had hit him in the face and then had complained about Draco's weakness when his son dared to let out a sound of pain. Draco had never tried to defend himself because opposing would've made his father only more furious. But this time it had been different. When Lucius had wanted to hit him, Draco had blocked him and landed a blow into Lucius' stomach. For a moment they had both stood stunned opposite each other. Draco had been surprised by his reaction and so had been his father, but as soon as his shock had faded, Lucius had got so angry he almost couldn't speak. 

"How dare you stand up against me!" he had hissed so venomously that Draco had taken a step back involuntarily. But it had been too late. Murmuring something unintelligible, Lucius had pointed his wand at his son and the last thing Draco had seen had been a flash of yellow light protruding from its tip. Then everything went black.

After Draco had opened his eyes again, he had found himself lying sprawled in a corner of his room. The force of the curse must've blasted him against the wall, as the horrid headache and the pain in his arm had confirmed. It had taken Draco so much effort to stand up that for a moment, the thought of crying out for help had crossed his mind. But he had dismissed it immediately. None of his parents would have come and he hadn't wanted the house-elves to see what state he had been in. Eventually he had managed to crawl over to his bed and lie down. That had been two hours ago and he still wasn't in the shape to walk. Draco moaned. His head felt as if someone were striking a gong behind his temples. Draco was in his worst mood ever. He had never felt worse, not even when he had to witness that bloody Potter had always got away with everything in school, how everybody was crazy about him and how Gryffindor had won the House Championship every year since he was in Hogwarts, not to speak the Quidditch Cup in his 3rd year. Yes, that was it. Potter was the reason for his misery. If he hadn't survived that attack of the Dark Lord, everything would be different. And better, in Draco's opinion. His father would be serving his Master happily and in security and he, Draco wouldn't have to cope with the presence of people like Granger whom he considered so much under his niveau that he felt slightly nauseated every time he spotted her somewhere. In addition to that, she was adding another point in Lucius' repertoire why his son was such a failure. 

"That little mudblood is better than you in EVERY SUBJECT, boy! But you're obviously too dim to prevent that big a disgrace. I was foolish ever to hold any hopes concerning you!" was what Lucius used to say on that topic. 

After three hours of lying and sighing, Draco's throat had become so dry he felt like having emery paper in the mouth instead of a tongue. He was just about to call a house-elf to bring something to drink when he remembered that he didn't want to be seen in his current shape. So he sat up with great effort and tested if his legs could carry him. He was trembling slightly, but otherwise quite confident of his regained ability to walk. Slowly, Draco went over to the door, pausing there because he was still feeling weak.

On his way to the kitchen he suddenly heard two voices talking in a room at his left. Catching the sound of his name, he stopped dead and listened eagerly while he was only too well aware of  the coldness coming from the stone wall he was leaning against to steady himself. It was his mother who spoke.

"You really shouldn't hit him so hard, Lucius. I know you have doubts about him but in my opinion he still could be valuable to us," Narcissa said with no trace of emotion in her voice that was melodious but as cold as ice.

Her words made Draco frown slightly. He was surprised because his mother never stuck up for him and usually let her husband do what he wanted to with Draco. Therefore he didn't think it was of advantage for him if she started to defend him all of a sudden. He rather suspected that Narcissa had something in the back of her mind. A few moments later he was proven right.

"You're right. He has always been a severe disappointment but he's our only child and very good positioned when being in Hogwarts. I suppose the Dark Lord will have him spying on the Enemy at school if he doesn't decide to kill Potter in the holidays. But seeing that the past few times the Master failed, I think that he will plan his next strike more thoroughly before acting," Lucius replied to his wife. Draco could picture the sneer his father was certainly wearing at that moment very well. It was a haughty, unpleasant expression, the same Lucius always wore when he was telling his son what he'd done wrong. However, Narcissa seemed to be annoyed by something because there was a hint of anger in her voice when she went on.

"The Dark Lord can't do anything in the school holidays. Rumor has it that the Head of Black Star has returned to England. She will certainly look after the Potter boy and you know only too well that she's not someone to be messed with. Her organization has grown not only in the number of agents, but also in power. She has spies everywhere and she's one of Dumbledore's biggest supporters. We'll have to be careful. Stella Decartier is dangerous. I hate to admit it but she is."

Lucius tone became slightly amused and he laughed. Draco was baffled. Hearing Lucius letting out so much as a chuckle was very rare these days and hearing him _laugh _was about as disturbing as catching Crabbe or Goyle salsa-dancing in the hallway.

"Dangerous? Maybe, but so are you, darling. We can cope with Black Star. Decartier is not omniscient, after all," Lucius pointed out with what should be a calm voice but he didn't succeed entirely. Draco could almost see his mother raising her eyebrows in a doubtful way only she could master. However, as much as he would want his parents to go on with their conversation, they didn't do him the favor but choose to retire to their rooms instead as his mother now suggested. Draco was suddenly aware of his dangerous situation when they could easily catch him eavesdropping. Concentrating on making as little noise as possible, he slipped into a room on his right just in time. Seconds later he heard his parents coming out of the room and going down the corridor. Draco made a faint sound of relief. Leaning against the door with his back, he sank down slowly, thoughts whirling through his head. So Voldemort was going to kill Harry Potter. That was no news seeing that he had been attempting to do it since Potter's birth. It was also a fact that Draco had grown up with. But until now he hadn't realized what it would really mean. No Boy Who Lived. No Gryffindor victories. Fewer Mudbloods. Rising authority of Malfoys and similar families. Power. Harry Potter, the source of Draco's never-ending misery, would be only a memory. A few lines in "The Final Rise and the Ruling of the Dark Side". And of course, an article in the _Daily Prophet. _Potter managed to get himself onto the front page whatever he did.

"Being dead at last would serve him right," Draco thought mutinously. "All this fame and glory – for what? Something he can't even remember properly and that he didn't do anything to achieve!"

But the feeling of satisfaction Draco usually got at these thoughts didn't come. Instead, they were disturbing him. He began to feel apprehensive. The full meaning of 'Killing Harry Potter' finally got to him and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. It would mean fear. Uncertainty. Mistrust. Hostility. Oppression. _Dark Times. _Draco shivered slightly, then scowled.

"Get a grip on yourself, Malfoy," he told himself sternly. "You're used to all of the above. Well, maybe the times aren't so dark yet but everything has its disadvantages, even being rid of Potter. Live with it."

But the cold, apprehensive feeling remained. For a brief moment Draco wondered how Voldemort was going to kill Harry. A sudden image of Potter being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse appeared in his mind, but he pushed it away quickly. It made him feel ill and _that _was alarming. He was not supposed to be concerned about Potter. He was Draco Malfoy and therefore not supposed to be concerned about _anybody _but himself!

"It must be the head injury. Makes me think weird things," Draco said soothingly to himself. It didn't help. He was still feeling uneasy.

_Killing Harry Potter._

Draco wondered how it possibly felt like when you had to live in a constant mortal danger. Did you ever forget about it, in some moments of your life? Or was it omnipresent like… the smell of garlic that had always accompanied Quirrell? Draco had to grin. Well, maybe that wasn't such a good comparison. One shouldn't joke about things like that.

"Bad Draco," he attempted to scold himself but nothing happened. Self-criticism apparently wasn't his strength. Nor was it his ability of pushing unpleasant thoughts away. Another horrid image of  Potter being dead and lying pale-faced and bloody among black-hooded people rose in his mind. Draco choked. He had never imagined Potter's death. Of course, he had imagined what would happen thereafter, but never the actual killing. So why did he have to think about it just now? Draco drew his hands through his hair wearily. He didn't know the answer. What he knew was that he didn't like the thought of Potter being murdered. Point. But why?

Draco resolved to deal with that question on his way to the kitchen. By the time he got there, he had found an answer: He simply wasn't enthusiastic about killing people in general, therefore Potter no exception.

"Another thing I _unfortunately  _didn't inherit from my father," he thought ironically. "His passion for the extinguishing of lives."

While he was drinking some water, Draco mentally went through the overheard conversation again. His mother had been worried when speaking about this other woman, Stella Decartier. That was unusual. Narcissa almost never showed worry or fear. Therefore that woman really had to be somebody to count with when planning to kill Potter. But who was she? Lucius and his wife had said something about the Head of Black Star and an organization gaining power. Also, they had mentioned agents.

Would that be a spying organization, Draco wondered. He could vaguely remember reading something about Black Star somewhere, probably in the Daily Prophet. And this Head of Black Star was on Dumbledore's side which meant that she would surely do anything to protect Potter. Which was typical again. Whoever the really powerful magical people were (save Voldemort, of course), their highest concern was Harry Potter's safety. Draco pulled a face at these thoughts. But on the other hand it meant that he didn't have to think about Harry's forced death. It probably wouldn't take place anyway, with Dumbledore, the Ministry and this Black Star organization looking after the Boy Who Lived.

Having drunk enough, Draco decided to go back into his room. On the way there he was pondering whether Stella Decartier knew something about Voldemort's exact plans for the summer and if so, how she'd come by such information. Draco supposed she was aware of the dangerous situation with Voldemort rising anew because as far as he knew, she'd been living on the opposite side of the Atlantic Ocean until now. Why would she have returned if not to help Dumbledore fighting the Dark Lord?

Having arrived in his room, Draco lay down on his bed again and glanced up to the ceiling preoccupied with his thoughts. He wondered how the agents of Black Star could possibly find out secret information about Voldemort. Did they have somebody infiltrated among the Death Eaters? It would be interesting to know, Draco mused. He was interested in spying in general, he'd always been. When he was younger, he used to observe his father to know the state he was in which made it easier for him to foresee imminent trouble situations like the one he'd experienced this very day. Also, when he had started to attend Hogwarts he had tried to find out as much as he could about the other Slytherins and of course about people he disliked, like Potter and co. It helped him to find the best suitable insults and threats. For instance, very few people knew that Marcus Flint's sister was a Squib and therefore had been given away to a muggle orphanage. Back in the days when Marcus had attended Hogwarts, Draco had used this knowledge to make Flint letting him do what he had wanted to during Quidditch practice and in the Slytherin common room. Sometimes, Flint had been forced to play some kind of bodyguard of Draco's in order to preserve his family honor. If Marcus hadn't stopped the other Slytherins to go after Draco because of his annoying behavior, the younger boy would've told everybody about the Flints' daughter. And this shame and disgrace had to be prevented. Draco considered himself quite able at gathering information. A bit of eavesdropping here, some bribing there... it wasn't that difficult. He wondered how the spies at Black Star worked. Being an agent was certainly very interesting, demanding and dangerous. 

"Exactly the right job for me," Draco grinned smugly. Knowledge meant power and he liked power. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden noise at the door. Looking unpleasant, Lucius strode in and snarled, obviously still remembering the blow Draco had landed into his stomach earlier, " Some of my colleagues will come to dine with us tonight. You'll be there as well and you will be punctual. I do not want to have somebody search you when any of the guests might ask about your whereabouts." With that, he turned around and left, leaving the door open on purpose because he knew that his son hated that. 

"As if any of the Death Eaters were interested in my whereabouts. You just want to show them how well you can control me," Draco thought bitterly while he was closing the door.

A gathering of Father's _colleagues _was exactly what he needed. The last nail into his coffin. Draco groaned. If they just talked about something interesting! But no, usually they only complained about various things. On the other hand, maybe they would let slip some information about the Dark Plans today and Draco would know something that he could brag in front of Crabbe and Goyle jr. with.  

***

The guests came and while they were all sitting in the dining room, Draco amused himself by imagining some important- and dangerous-looking agents striding into the Manor, accusing and convicting the Death Eaters of all the crimes they had committed and then taking them away to lock them up until Doomsday. The looks on their faces would be certainly worth to see. Draco allowed himself a faint grin. He wouldn't miss any of them, his father the least. Come to think of it, the idea wasn't so bad, even though it was highly unlikely to come true. If his parents were arrested – and for their crimes they would probably get a life-long sentence when proven guilty – then he would probably get a guardian and live in peace at last. Still, Draco didn't feel comfortable at the thought of Lucius and Narcissa in prison. True, they had never acted like they should have as parents, but a life-long sentence in Azkaban? Draco wouldn't have wished his worst enemy there. The problem was that should Lucius and Narcissa ever be arrested and proven guilty, Azkaban would be their unavoidable fate. Draco shivered slightly. 

Suddenly the adults' conversation caught his attention. They were complaining, of course – and their main topic was the Black Star. From what Draco had been hearing recently, he figured that that organization was something to be cautious with when you were a Death Eater.

An unexpected idea struck him. It was crazy, stupid and impossible… yet he couldn't push it away. The idea remained in the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

Finally, after two hours of - in Draco's opinion – pointless discussion, one by one the Death Eaters left and Draco was allowed to go back into his room, which he was eager to do. He'd barely been able to keep his eyes open during dinner. Fortunately, it was over now. Back upstairs, Draco locked himself up in his room and looked thoughtfully at the fireplace where a small fire was burning, because even in summer, the temperature in the Manor was quite low. He drew out his wand and pointed it at the flames while remembering the spell for communication through fireplaces without being seen. He found the word he had been searching for and wondered briefly if his brilliant idea was really so brilliant and whether it was going to work at all. Draco took a deep breath and spoke softly but clearly, "Auditor a Black Star!"

The flames seemed to grow bigger and then they turned light blue. Suddenly a pleasant but authoritative voice resounded.

"Here are the Black Star Headquarters. You're speaking with First General Sean Wraith. State your name and business, please."

Draco was speechless for a moment. He had had doubts that it would work, but this had been easy. Now there came the hard part. Draco cleared his throat.

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I would like to speak with Stella Decartier," he said, trying to sound important and hoping that his voice didn't sound so uncertain as he felt.

There was a short silence at the other end of the connection and then the speaker answered, " Ms Decartier is currently not accessible. Do you wish to leave a message?"

"Er, no thanks," Draco stammered, not quite knowing what to say and then frowned as the connection broke immediately. He was pretty sure that everybody who wanted to speak with Stella Decartier like this was told exactly the same thing the man had said to him, no matter if the Head was present or not. But Draco wasn't going to give up so easily. He would try again.

Meanwhile, Sean Wraith was staring thoughtfully at the fireplace in his office. Draco Malfoy wanted to talk to Stella? Either it hadn't been the real Draco or something strange was going on. Sean used the Vocatus- net to reach Stella. 

Draco had been right. Nobody who wanted to talk to the Head of Black Star succeeded at the first try – some people never did – well, maybe except for a few special people like Dumbledore, Stella's friends and some Ministers of Magic. There had been just so many insulting and threatening calls for her in the past that Stella had lost the nerve to deal with them and let other agents do it.

She was sitting in her office and pondering whether or not to meet the Egyptian Minister of Magic the next day. He had been boring her to death with his tirades about the wizards who kept putting curses on the Pyramids of Gizeh and whom her agents were supposed to find and take to prison.

"Maybe they should use the money they pay us to build up a special 'Pyramid Police' on their own," Stella mused and then she shrugged. Dispatching those cursers wasn't very difficult if you were skilled in Banishing Charms and Curse-braking and the Egyptian Ministry paid well. She got distracted as Sean's voice spoke up.

"Hey, Silver. A certain Mr. Malfoy wanted to talk to you," he said.

Stella was surprised. "Lucius?? Well, color me astonished. What did he say?" she asked.

Sean replied in an amused tone. "Not Lucius, chèrie. It was _young _Mr. Malfoy."

"_Draco _Malfoy wanted to talk to me? Well, ain't that funny. What's going on? What might he want?" Stella was even more puzzled than before. Sean didn't have a clue himself. He had been equally surprised.

"I don't know. He didn't want to leave a message. But I have the feeling that he's going to try again. He sounded serious."

" Maybe your commanding tone just scared him," Stella grinned. "Next time, I'll answer the call, okay?"

"As you wish, boss," Sean replied a little mockingly and broke the connection.

Stella leaned back in her chair and twirled her quill that she was holding in her hand absentmindedly. She touched her lips lightly with it as she often did when she was about to solve a problem or like now, trying to find out what that weird call meant. Suddenly Stella's eyes widened.

Grimacing, she made a disgusted sound and took the quill out of her mouth, tasting ink. She'd sucked on it out of habit, forgetting completely that it wasn't a sugar-quill. 

"Wonderful," she grumbled, eyeing herself in a small mirror she had taken out of her pocket. "I'll have a lovely blue tongue to confuse the son of my arch-enemy."

Just at that moment the flames in her fireplace turned light-blue, indicating an incoming call. With a quick wave of her hand, Stella gave her tongue its usual color back and seated herself in front of the fire.

"Audio," she murmured, which opened the connection. "Mr. Draco Malfoy?"

Draco had been holding back his breath and exhaled quietly at the sound of her voice.

"Yes, it's me. Am I speaking with Stella Decartier?" he asked, hoping that it was her.

"You are. Why do you want to talk to me?" she inquired, keeping her voice even and disinterested, although she was curious.

"I wanted to talk to you because it occurred to me that you might be interested in something I could offer you," Draco said and was grateful that his voice didn't show anything of his uneasiness. Being naturally arrogant had its advantages sometimes. However, Stella didn't seem to be impressed. She wondered secretly for a moment if Draco had written what he wanted to say on a piece of paper and was now reading it out loud. His last sentence hadn't sounded like something a 15 year-old would say. Then again, this was Draco Malfoy. Maybe that was his usual way of talking.

" Now why would I be interested in anything you offer?" 

"I assume you want the Dark Lord as well as the Death Eaters dead or in prison, don't you?"

"I would say that's common knowledge, yes. Why, has it something to do with your offer?" Stella asked and couldn't help to feel even more curious. She just hoped she didn't show it too much.

Draco had waited for that question.

"Yes, indeed. I'm offering you my help in that business," he said, still trying to ban the nervousness from his voice. He heard Stella laughing quietly and scowled. That wasn't funny. Not at all.

"I'm serious," he added.

"Oh, I'm sure you are," she replied, not bothering to hide the amused irony from her tone. " Give me one reason why I should  believe you."

Draco thought fast.

"Well, have I ever lied to you?"

Stella raised her eyebrows. "No, but considering that this is the first time you speak to me, you'll forgive me if I say that it doesn't mean much," she pointed out.

"You're awfully distrusting, did you know that?" Draco said resignedly, unable to stop himself.

"I'm the Head of an Information Service. It's in the job description," she replied dryly. " Does this conversation have a purpose, Mr. Malfoy? Because I'm afraid I haven't spotted it yet. In short: You're wasting my time."

"I've already told you everything I intended to." There was a hint of anger in Draco's tone. "It's not my fault you don't believe me."

"Probably not," Stella agreed. "No offense, but as a son of a Death Eater, you just lack credibility." She sounded final and as if she was about to end the conversation. Draco became anxious. He couldn't let that happen. He had to make her believe him!

"No wait!" he blurted out, his mind racing. He had to say something that would catch her attention, something convincing…

"Wouldn't it rather be of advantage for you if you had the son of a Death Eater on your side? You surely have methods to find out whether I'm trustworthy or not," he said and was suddenly swept over by fear. Trustworthiness. He surely was the right one to talk about it. If his father found out what he was doing right now, he'd be dead or worse. It was awfully risky to converse with one of Lucius' enemies in his own house. If he knew that his son was just offering to betray his family and their allies, it wouldn't matter that Stella didn't believe him. Draco hoped that communication through fireplaces couldn't be overheard easily.

Maybe Stella had sensed his rising panic or maybe her curiosity overcame her, in any case, she spoke up after a moment of silence.

"Okay, Mr. Malfoy. You'll get a chance. Meet me tomorrow in the 'Dancing Dragon' in Diagon Alley at eleven o'clock. We can talk there."

Draco restrained himself from exclaiming "You mean it?" because he didn't want to sound as if he didn't believe her. So he just nodded, but after a moment he remembered that she couldn't see him and replied, "I'll be there. Thank you."

A second later, the connection broke and the flames resumed their usual color again. Draco stared at the fire irritably. Those Black Star people apparently weren't fans of long saying-goodbye ceremonies. However, he resolved not to be indignant about this, because soon he would have to face the Head of Black Star and maybe complaining about the formalities wasn't such a good topic to start with when you wanted to be accepted.

Meanwhile, Stella was musing over her meeting with Draco and certainly wasn't in her best mood. She was torn between her opinion made long ago that a Malfoy – any Malfoy – wasn't to be trusted because being untrustworthy was in their genes ( or whatever the Muggles called that ) and her wish to have somebody spying on Lucius and Narcissa like Draco would be able to. But lying, cheating and betrayal was the Malfoys' only way to be, or so she'd experienced it over the years. She spent the following twenty minutes imagining horrible scenes that would happen the next day, including an image of Lucius arriving instead of his son and wearing his haughty sneer she'd always desperately wanted to hit and an image of Voldemort striding into the 'Dancing Dragon' – ( Could he still stride? Did he even have _feet_? Stella wasn't sure. She used to picture Voldemort as a basilisk with a human's head, although she knew that this probably wasn't his current shape. ) – and cursing her to death. However, that wasn't as disturbing as the image she got thereafter: namely featuring Draco ( looking like a shrank version of his father due to the fact that Stella had never seen him in person ) who came to her and said in a deadly serious tone that the value of the shares of the 'Production and Trade of Yellow- rimmed Glasses Company' at the Magical Stock Exchange was sinking rapidly and that she'd better do something really quickly because otherwise she would be ruined in 13 and a half minutes flat.

"Now where did the last image come from?" Stella wondered. It was really weird because she didn't own any shares and even if she did, she most decidedly wouldn't invest her money into a company whose purpose was the production and trade of yellow-rimmed specs. She pictured her old Hogwarts Potions Master wearing glasses rimmed with 2-cm canary yellow material and started to laugh hysterically, only to stop dead after a second, telling herself firmly to shut up and to quit thinking insane thoughts like those mentioned above. Instead, she decided to look through her schedule for the next day and make some preparations, if needed.

"Okay," Stella muttered, "Eight o'clock, meeting the Egyptian Minister of Magic – wonder if that means 8 o'clock here or in their time zone. We'll see. Nine thirty – meet Tim Robinson from the _Daily Prophet _for an interview… when did I agree to _that_? Well, he's gonna have to ask for another time because the meeting with Draco Malfoy at eleven will be needing some preparations. One o'clock lunch, two o'clock until five – reading and answering mail. Five until seven: wandless magical training. Eight o'clock – watching the new Rosamunde Pilcher movie on TV. Well, that's the single cheerful thing that awaits me tomorrow. Hm. It's kind of depressing that I have nothing more to look forward to than two hours of grief, uncertainty, false love confessions and a big kitschy happy end."

Sighing heavily, she stood up and left her office for the library that was situated in the Headquarters. It was a very well-sorted one, although it didn't contain so many books as the Hogwarts or Salem Library. But there were all the books the agents needed and if they required one that happened not to be there, then it would be bought or come by in another way (legal, of course).

Right now, Stella wanted to look up some Lie- and Untrustworthiness- Detecting Charms for her meeting with Draco. Having arrived in the library, she told the librarian what she wanted and he recommended the book 'I can see the lie!' by Haru Spex. Stella took it and Teleported herself back into her office. She didn't like Teleporting and wasn't nearly as good at it as Sean was, but it was the quickest way of moving around in the Headquarters building and she didn't have much time to spare. However, the Teleporting had some undesirable side-effects on her. She always felt slightly dizzy and disoriented afterwards. Back in her office, she flung herself onto the sofa and started reading. It was half past three in the morning when she realized that she'd been reading one and the same page over and over again for about ten minutes and hadn't remembered a single word and due to this, she resolved to stop. She'd already made her decision about what to use anyway. Stella certainly wouldn't use a Sneakoscope because those things were simply too visible (and audible) and she didn't want to show Draco how she tested his trustworthiness. She had decided to put an _'Examina fidem' _– spell on the doorposts of the room they would be talking in. If an untrustworthy person passed such charmed doorposts, then the doorposts would glow red for a brief moment. If the passing person was trustworthy, they would flash in a green sort of color and should they become yellow, then you'd better be careful as well because that meant the person could turn out either way. Stella would also put a _'Detecto falsum'_- spell on the whole room. This spell would turn Draco's hair purple if he lied and it had the advantage that the person it would work on could be specifically chosen, so it wouldn't affect Stella if she didn't say the truth. She pondered for a moment whether to take a new sort of Sneakoscope that didn't make the whistling sound but only vibrated, but then she resolved not to. After all, she had still her sense for foul things that only rarely disappointed her. With the other two charms, it should be enough.

***

After waking up in the next morning, Draco had to face the problem of how to get to London without drawing too much attention to himself. But he was lucky. His father wasn't at home due to a 'business meeting' and his mother didn't care what he did anyway. For once, he was grateful for that ignorance.

As 11 o'clock was approaching, Draco began to feel nervous. This seemed to happen quite often these days and that bothered him. He was a Malfoy and therefore had no reason to feel uneasy! On the other hand, maybe _that_ was exactly the reason why he should be nervous. Stella Decartier was nothing if not a declared enemy of the Malfoy family. What if she kidnapped him and wanted his father to confess his crimes as an exchange for his son? _Well, _Draco thought with grim amusement, _that would be a very unwise thing to do. My parents would probably send the Black Star their thanks for getting them rid of me in an easy way._

Ten minutes later Draco started to regret that he had eaten ham and eggs for breakfast. He hoped that they wouldn't leave his body the way they had come in. At half past ten, Draco went over to his fireplace and took a handful of Floo Powder, noticing with irritation that his hands were shaking.

"Quit that," he said to himself. "She needs you and therefore she's not going to turn you into a rabbit and keep you as a pet!" Maybe not as a rabbit, but what about a _ferret_? – said an unpleasant little voice in the back of his mind. Draco decided to ignore it and threw the Floo Powder into the fire. He stepped in, muttering "Diagon Alley" and a few moments later he stumbled out of the fireplace in the _Leaky Cauldron_. He attempted to dust the soot off of himself but didn't succeed entirely. After that, he went to look for the _'Dancing Dragon' _. Diagon Alley was crowded by witches who were walking around in groups, chatting loudly and doing their week's shopping. There were almost no wizards to see. Draco supposed they were at work. It took him a while to find the place he was looking for because it was small, stuck between 'Madam Malkin's Robes for Every Occasion' and a newly opened shop for Magical Sports Supplies. For a moment, Draco was tempted to go and see whether there already was a broom that was better than Potter's Firebolt, but it was 10.50 and he didn't want to be late. So he turned to the small pub he was supposed to meet Stella in and examined the sign that bore the words 'The Dancing Dragon'. However, it didn't show a Welsh Green or another native dragon of Great Britain. The dragon on the sign was pearl – white. Just at that moment, it moved and fixed his shining red eyes on Draco who stared at it, fascinated. He wondered briefly what sort of dragon it was but then he remembered that he'd better go in. He pushed the door open and entered the pub.

And stared.

Whatever he might have expected, it hadn't been _this. _The _Dancing Dragon_ was like nothing he'd ever seen before and also nothing like its shabby outward appearance. It was too dark to see many details, but the first thing that caught Draco's attention was the ceiling. Apparently, it was enchanted and it looked like the sky with swirling gray clouds moved by the wind. But it couldn't be the same enchantment the Great Hall in Hogwarts had because it was a sunny, cloudless day outside. Draco realized that this gray-white ceiling was the only light in the _Dancing Dragon. _ The room was immersed in a strange dim twilight that made everything look eerie and as if behind a wall of smoke. Everything save the ceiling was black: The walls, the floor, the chairs and the tables. The people looked like shadows with no faces. Draco would have been fascinated by this place if he hadn't felt so intimidated.

Suddenly two tall shapes appeared at his sides and a voice said quietly, "Please follow me, Mr. Malfoy." They had caught Draco off guard and it took him a moment to regain his wits. Who were they and where were they taking him?

"Who are you?" he asked sharply and wanted to say more, but the person who had spoken before interrupted him with a single commanding gesture.

"We're members of Black Star and we will take you to the Head if you're willing to come with us," he (it was a man) explained shortly. He didn't wait for an answer but just turned around and strode away. Having hesitated for a moment, Draco went after him, noticing that the other agent followed them both.

Draco was led through a narrow corridor where everything was black again, except for the ceiling. Then the man who had led him stopped beside a door. It looked normal but Draco had the feeling that in this room Stella Decartier was expecting him. He took a deep breath and opened the door. The sight of the room surprised him so much that he didn't notice the brief light-green flash of light as he passed the doorposts. But Stella did notice it and was satisfied. The light hadn't been deep green as it would have been if an entirely trustworthy person had stepped in, but light-green was better than she had expected. It meant that she could trust Draco – for now.

Draco's attention was caught by the appearance of the room, so he didn't notice Stella immediately. He looked around with wide eyes. The room was also dimly lit, but other than that, it bore no resemblance to the rest of the pub. It wasn't immersed with the cold, smoky gray light but with a faint golden glow that came from the fireplace at Draco's left. On his right, in the far corner of the room there was a small round table with two chairs. One chair was free and on the other one there sat a woman. Draco's mind snapped back into reality and he looked at her with interest. He didn't quite know what he had expected. An aura of power and authority, maybe. Or a radiant personality that would immediately catch the spectator's attention. Stella had none of those, or perhaps she did, but just didn't show it, Draco couldn't say. What he realized was that there was more behind her calm manner than met the eye. It had to be because nobody could be the Head of a big organization when he or she were as normal and average-seeming as Stella was now. She stood up and extended her hand to Draco.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," she said, smiling lightly at him, so that a little of his nervousness vanished. He was grateful for that and murmured something like, "Vice versa, Ms Decartier." 

Stella gestured him to take place and they both sat down on the chairs. For a moment, they did nothing except for surveying each other to get a first picture of the other one. For some reason, Draco didn't fell awkward to look at her so openly, maybe because she was looking at him in the same examining way. He'd noticed before that she was a little taller than him and now he turned his attention to her face. It was surrounded by dark hair, shoulder-length, and had fine, regular features. Nothing outstanding, neither especially high cheekbones nor a crooked nose. Then their eyes met and Draco began to feel a little timid again. They were keen eyes, not unfriendly, but they sure could flash when Stella was angry. Draco couldn't distinguish the color because of the dim light. All that he saw was that they weren't completely dark. Stella was pretty, although not beautiful in a flamboyant way his mother had always been with her golden hair and bright-blue eyes.

Stella's first thought at the sight of Draco had been, "He looks just like his father." But by now, she'd corrected herself. It was true that Draco had inherited Lucius' platinum hair and gray eyes, maybe also his pointed chin, but there the resemblance ended. Stella had known both his parents in Hogwarts and to her, Draco didn't resemble Narcissa either, if you didn't count the pale coloring that could also be the result of him never spending any time outside in the fresh air. One could also say that he'd inherited her way of moving, which was as graceful and elegant as a cats'. Narcissa had been known for it in school.

After they had been eyeing themselves for a while, Stella decided to start talking because it didn't seem as if Draco was going to do that.

"Alright, Mr. Malfoy," she began. "I think it will be the best if we talk openly. I do not need you. I came here out of mere curiosity, so I don't intend to waste my time. If I like what you are going to say, I may stay long enough to hear you out. But be careful: Do not attempt to lie to me because then I'll get bored. And when I'm bored, I become annoyed easily. You surely don't want that."

Draco shook his head. Stella's voice had been calm and friendly, but he was well aware of the warning tone it had held. Of course, he couldn't know that she did need somebody like him, otherwise he would have felt much less uncomfortable.

"Good. Then please tell me why you are so eager to betray your family and all of their friends and to work against them," Stella inquired.

Draco winced slightly at the word 'betray'. After all, he'd been raised with the opinion that family pride and honor always had to be primal. No matter how much the Malfoy family members hated each other, they would still stick together against enemies. Except for him. He was going to do the exact opposite. Draco took a deep breath.

"It will be a rather long story," he pointed out.

Stella grinned. "Oh, I like long stories. Take all the time you want."

So Draco launched into explaining. How he despised of Harry Potter and how he would do almost anything to have peace of him for the rest of his life. Only that he didn't like the thought of Potter being murdered. That was why he'd come to her. She had the ways and powers to prevent that.

Stella, who had been listening carefully, interrupted him at that point.

"You could've also gone to Dumbledore or to Fudge. They would've probably consulted me anyway, but in convicting criminals, Fudge has the last word. My job is to find out about them and their activities and take them to court. I can't influence the judges," she said, but it wasn't entirely true. That was what the public should believe the organization's work was. It was more then that, however, and Draco knew it from what he'd heard from his parents and the Death Eaters.

"I'm sure you have your… well, _ways _to make them do what you want," he said slyly, wanting her to know that he wasn't so naïve she apparently thought he was, feeding him with such a fairy tale. Actually, Stella had been pretty sure he didn't believe what the public should believe. But it had been worth a try, especially because his answer had given her basic information. He could've come by such knowledge only through his parents. There was a high possibility that Draco knew more than the truth about Black Star. Perhaps he knew something about the Death Eaters' plans as well. If he did, then he could be useful for her.

"Maybe I have my ways," she said vaguely. "But still, it would have been more logical for you to go to Dumbledore or Fudge. You know them better than you know me."

Draco snorted contemptuously.

"Fudge's so dumb he refuses to see that Voldemort's rising again and I don't like the old muggle-loving fool Dumbledore, either. You seemed the best option," he said, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to and saying exactly what he was thinking. He realized what he's just told her as Stella replied sarcastically, "Oh, I'm honored, young Mr. Malfoy." 

Draco froze and mentally slapped himself. He should have known better than to insult Dumbledore in front of one of his biggest supporters. He cast a cautious glance at Stella's face to see if she was very irritated.

Frowning slightly, she remarked, "When I said I don't want you to lie to me, I didn't mean that you could insult my friends freely. You'll have to learn when to speak the truth and when you'd better keep your mouth shut."

Draco was a little confused. Did she say that because she could actually picture him as an agent? If so, then she'd sounded awfully vague. But this seemed to be a habit of her. His train of thought was again interrupted by Stella who posed another question.

"What caused you to rebel against your family? Surely it couldn't be only your pity for Harry Potter."

_I don't pity him, I just don't want him dead, _Draco thought sulkily, but resolved not to say that out loud. Instead, he began to explain his situation hesitantly. How he and his father hated each other. How his mother didn't care for him at all. Then he realized that it sounded really melodramatic and reminded himself that it wasn't exactly like that. He told Stella that Lucius did have moments when he was almost nice. They had been getting rarer over the years, however. But Draco could remember the day when his father had brought him a little Hebridean Black to play with. He'd been eight years old then and absolutely delighted by the baby dragon. After a month it had gotten quite big, so McNair had slain it, but still, Draco had appreciated the fact that Lucius had thought of his son's enthusiasm about dragons and had brought him one. Also, he'd got Draco onto the House Quidditch Team which was probably only to preserve the family honor ( a Malfoy simply had to be on the House Team, no matter if it was because of their skill or money ), but Draco was glad anyway. He didn't consider himself as a bad Quidditch player, either. For one year, he'd even had a better broom than Potter, thanks to Lucius. But by now, Draco had discovered that even the little bit of affection Lucius might have felt towards his son had vanished. Now he saw Draco only as somebody to work off his anger on.

Stella nodded slowly. The situation was clear. Draco wanted revenge and he found that the best way to do that was to get Lucius, Narcissa and their allies into prison. But that was easy to say and hard to achieve.

"Draco," Stella said gently and her tone startled him. "It won't be easy. You'll have to work against everything that surrounds you at home. And I can't promise you that they all won't find out. But this uncertainty isn't the worst part. Do you really think you can betray your parents? Do you care little enough for them to help to put them into prison or get them killed? Are you sure you won't regret your decision?"

Draco leaned back thoughtfully. He was betraying his parents at the very moment anyway and so far, it hadn't been so hard. Did he care for his parents? He wasn't sure. Sometimes he did. But most of the time he didn't at all. Would he regret his decision? He didn't know. What he knew was that after having started to work against his parents, there would be no return. On the one hand was the memory of the baby dragon, Lucius' laughter ( yes, he could actually laugh and sometimes it even sounded pleasant ) and all the material wealth he had through his parents. On the other hand there was Lucius' face contorted with rage, Narcissa's cold voice and the hours spent on his bed in pain. That was the deciding factor. Draco hated pain. He was sick and tired of experiencing it over and over again. He looked up and met Stella's eyes that were gazing at him expectantly.

"Yes, yes and yes," he said firmly.

Stella nodded. "Good. I'm glad we've sorted this out. Now listen carefully, I'm going to tell you what I'm expecting you to do. I want you to tell me everything you can find out about the activities, plans and intentions of your parents, the other Death Eaters and Voldemort."

_Sounds really simple as she says it, _Draco thought slightly desperately. _There's only one problem: I have absolutely no idea how to do it._

Stella had apparently guessed what he was thinking.

"It's possible to do, believe me. Quite a few people are doing it," she told him reassuringly. "Of course," she added thoughtfully, "I've never employed somebody as young as you are, but I suppose that won't be our biggest problem."

_Oh, really? Well, how comforting,_ Draco thought acidly, wondering what the other problems were. He got the answer straight away.

"Of course," Stella went on, "You can't do the spying just like that. You'll have to be trained."

Draco's mood sank. It would be like having school! In the holidays! He frowned.

"You can't work in the Black Star without having received and successfully completed the training," Stella pointed out. "So, do you still want to work for me?"

"Yes," Draco replied, but with a tone that couldn't be termed as very enthusiastic.

Stella shot him a doubtful glance and cocked one eyebrow. It reminded Draco of Narcissa and he found it unnerving.

"Yes," he said again, now trying to sound more convincing.

"Okay. I'll meet you here tomorrow, same time. Then we can talk about the training and your payment," Stella told him and raised from her seat. Draco stood up as well, positively surprised. He hadn't thought about payment before (which was quite unlike him), but he liked the thought of getting something pleasant for his work.

Stella went over to the fireplace and murmured some Latin words Draco didn't understand. But he could distinguish the two last words that weren't Latin: Malfoy Mansion. The fire flashed white for a moment and Stella turned around to face Draco.

"I have created a safe connection between your room at the Manor and this room. It can't be observed and nobody will know when you use it and where the other end is – this fireplace here. To open the connection, you have to throw a bit of this into the fire and say _Aperio ductum!_" she said and handed him a box full of powder of such a violent shade of pink that Draco had to prevent himself from staring at it open-mouthed.

Stella laughed briefly. "Don't worry. It works despite its color," she said and gestured him to try it out. Looking at the powder skeptically, Draco stepped in front of the fireplace and threw a handful of the pink substance into it. He said the spell and the fire became white again. Draco turned around and glanced at Stella. For a moment, he was tempted just to leave without saying goodbye as she had done the previous day, but instead he said (surprising himself by doing it), "Thank you."

"Not at all, Mr. Malfoy," Stella replied cheerfully. "See you tomorrow."

After that, Draco stepped into the fire and was whirled away to his room, amused by the fact that the Head of Black Star had actually said 'see you' to him. _Now if this isn't a definite improvement, _he thought mockingly, _in some time she's gonna worship the ground I'm walking on._

After Draco had gone, Stella sighed deeply and drew her hand through her hair slowly, feeling suddenly tired. The last month had been exhausting and the weariness still lay upon her. For a brief moment, she was tempted to stay in the _Dancing Dragon _and rest, but she had to go back to the Headquarters where she would be holding a meeting. Stella drew her wand and concentrated on the spell she was going to perform to get to the Headquarters.

_"Per transitum clandestinum spatii me admitti et ad stellam atram me duc!" _she said and the air in front of her wand began to whirl. It formed itself to a man-large vortex. Her spell had opened a secret passageway that always led to the Black Star HQ, no matter where you performed the enchantment. The reason for such a spell was the HQ's location. Only a handful of people knew exactly where the building was. Most of the agents and even the employees that worked in the HQ building itself didn't know the location and so the Crossing Spell, as it was called, was their only way to get there. For Stella it was the easiest and quickest way and she was grateful for its rapidity when the vortex spat her out at the HQ because it saved a lot of time. She shivered slightly which was understandable seeing that she'd come from a sunny, warm day in London to the HQ where it was freezing cold and where everything was covered with snow. But Stella wasn't surprised at all. The weather never changed at that place in the North- west Territories, Canada, where the HQ were situated. To most people, that choice might seem strange, but it was actually a very well-chosen place. Due to the fact that in Black Star, security had always been primal, the HQ were highly protected. Enchantments similar to those of Hogwarts were put on it: It was unplottable and had various wards, including the Apparating- Ban. The founders of Black Star had also resolved to use the advantages the nature could offer to them and had built the HQ on a place where it was hard to locate and equally hard to access. So basically, the Crossing Spell was the only way to get there, but that wasn't the end of the security precautions. The vortex didn't take you inside the building, instead it spat you out in front of the entrance to the HQ grounds. That was where Stella was standing now. She glanced at the gate in the three-meter high fence that was made of steel. It was two-winged and at the top it bore the Black Star sign: In the foreground there was a black star with eight tips and behind it you could see the eight tips of the same star, only that this one was silver. Stella forced back the memories that always swept over her at that sight and approached the gate firmly. The two wings opened for her and Stella strode up the way to the building. It was almost as white and shiny as the snow that covered it and built in the style of the ancient Greek with Ionic columns and arcades. But that wasn't the only thing that would catch a spectator's attention. At the sides of the entrance door there were two huge statues made of gray stone: the Outer Guardians. They represented sitting wolves and they always made Stella smile, no matter how bad her mood might be. She stopped before entering and grinned up to the statues that were as tall as the entrance door itself (5 meters, that is).

" Hello Oberon, hi Titania! What's new? Snow's still white?" she said, feeling somehow more cheerful than a minute ago. It might seem pointless to talk to stone statues, but a really attentive observant would have noticed the faint movement on the wolves' stony expressions as an answer to Stella's greeting. A twinkle? Maybe.

At last, Stella entered the HQ by stepping through the door into the Entrance Hall. The Entrance Hall was the exact opposite to the _Dancing Dragon._ Everything was made out of white marble, glass or shiny steel. At the beginning of the Hall there were two huge marble tables on each side of the door where two women with long, silky black hair were sitting. Isobel and Leticia were Banshee sisters and the Inner Guardians of the HQ. A special enchantment showed them every person that wanted to enter the grounds and if the person was permitted to pass, the Banshees would open the gate for them. The permission could be given by the Head or a First General and mostly, it was valid every time until that person was regarded as untrustworthy and dangerous. Now the sisters fixed Stella with the unwavering gaze of their black eyes that looked like bottomless wells of dark water and about as transparent.

_"Buenos días!" _Isobel said and Leticia nodded a greeting.

_"Buenos días!"_ Stella answered with a smile and hurried to her office, making a mental note to learn Spanish some time in the future. She knew a few words, but she wanted to be able to converse with her Spanish employees in their own tongue. Plus, she liked the sound of Spanish. It was a beautiful language. 

Having arrived in her office, she linked herself to the Vocatus- net and said softly, " Sean, Amanda, I'm back. I suggest we discuss the Malfoy matter now, if you don't have anything urgent to do."

It seemed that they hadn't because a few moments later, Sean Wraith and Amanda Latorre (who was Stella's cousin from her mother's side) appeared out of thin air. Stella gestured the two First Generals to take place on the chairs in front of her table and she sat down on her chair. Yes, there were indeed _two _First Generals. Intentionally. The Black Star hierarchy had some parallels to the old Roman Republic. When it came to the higher positions, there were always at least two people, mostly more. 'First General' was the second-highest rank and therefore double-filled. There had even been a second Head once.

Now two pairs of eyes were staring at Stella with close attention, one gray, one dark-brown. 

"Well," Stella began, "We've got a new trainee." 

The attention in Amanda's eyes turned immediately to disapproval. Sean seemed to have much the same thoughts because he said, sounding severe, " He's a _Malfoy_, Stella. Do you really think it's wise to trust him? He will probably double-cross us as soon as he can. I think we shouldn't employ him."

But Stella shook her head and told him and Amanda about the Trustworthiness Charms and Draco's reasons to turn against his parents.

"He's trustworthy for now. I think it will remain like that because his desire of revenge is great. That prospect of revenge stands and falls with Black Star and Draco Malfoy knows it. He won't work against us," Stella said, sounding far more convinced of it than she was. She still had her doubts about Draco but didn't want to seem uncertain.

Amanda spoke her doubts out loud, however. "Maybe he wants revenge now but how can you know that it will stay like that? He's a child, Stella. And like every child, he wants his parents to love him. They don't do that, obviously, and so he wants to punish them for it. But what if he regrets his decision later?"

"He won't," Stella stated firmly.

Sean frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

Stella thought desperately of something convincing to say. Nothing came, however, so she said what had first popped into her mind. 

"Because he said so."

Both Sean and Amanda shot her such an incredulous 'And you believed him?'- look that she would have laughed if it hadn't annoyed her so much.

"There was a Lie-detecting Charm on the room he was in," Stella pointed out sharply. "If he had lied, his hair would've turned purple. I didn't, though. Ergo, he said the truth."

Sean realized that for some unfathomable reason, Stella _wanted _to employ Draco Malfoy and so he refrained from saying that it had been the truth only because Malfoy had felt it at that particular moment. But his opinion could change and then he wouldn't be reliable anymore. Amanda had the same thoughts but decided, too, to let Stella have her way. After all, both Sean and her knew Stella well and were aware of the fact that she was very careful in every matter that concerned the Black Star, even if that wasn't her habit when it came to other things. They figured that she'd made precautions to notice if Malfoy's trustworthiness would falter and so some of their worries vanished.

"But you know," Sean said, sounding serious. " If he turns against us, we'll have to eliminate him." 

Stella gave him a broad, false smile that indicated she wasn't taken to his idea at all and said with the same false friendliness that lay in her smile, " Oh, of course. That will be your job, then."

Her eyes flashed with irritation as she added, "Sometimes you have to believe people, even if it seems that you've got no reason to do that. But trust me, in some cases it's worth to give them a chance."

Amanda and Sean didn't look particularly convinced, but they nodded and then disappeared to go after their own business. The next day, Stella met the silver-haired boy at the Dancing Dragon again. 

The training of Draco Malfoy had begun.

***1995, present***

At that point, Stella's mind snapped back to reality. There was a lot to do, so she'd better get a move on. Sighing, she pulled out a letter from one of her clients that consisted of three rolls of parchment.

"Probably full of complaints," Stella thought, grimacing. 

Ah well. Maybe she would go outside to take a look on how Draco and Sandro were doing instead. She could use something to cheer herself up.

~tbc~

_A/N: I apologize that there isn't anything about the 70's past in this chapter, but it would be simply too long then. There will be a lot more about the Marauders' Hogwarts years in the next chapter, I promise ;-)_

_Thanks for reviewing to Ice Fox, rigel, Jessica, MaxCat2564, Voltora, Dragon Maiden, Sween, Manda Black, Mrs Grim, Kat, Lady Padfoot, Torikar, Ourea and Szaranea!_


	7. Chapter 7

**The Black Star 7**

Dedicated to Ourea and Szaranea, for their beta-reading devotion.

The Harry Potter world belongs to JKR and the idea with the Quick-Quotes-Quill writing essays belongs to J.L.Matthews.

*1972*

Stella was walking slowly down the dimly-lit corridor, concentrating hard on making as little noise as possible. However, she had the feeling that the pounding of her heart was so loud that it had to be audible from the deepest dungeon to the top of the Astronomy Tower (okay, maybe not there because the people there were usually too occupied with other things to hear anything). She couldn't  help feeling excited. It was full moon and she was going to encounter a real werewolf in less than ten minutes! If all went well, that is.

The day before, she'd been down at the Whomping Willow to plan how to get into the Shrieking Shack at night. Prodding the knot on the trunk wasn't a problem, but how should she get the tree moving again as soon as she was in the tunnel? If it stayed still all night, someone might notice something was wrong and she didn't even dare to think about what would happen if Remus escaped...

In the end, Remus and her had found a solution. Having arrived at the Willow, she would call Kaye the aquaenix who would touch the knot after Stella would disappear in the tunnel. In theory, everything should go well. But in reality.... . Beside her excitement, Stella was very nervous. What if the wolf-Remus didn't recognize her and lunged at her? Werewolves were much stronger than ordinary wolves (which was what she would be) and although she had a backup plan (transforming into a bird and flee out of the Shack), she felt apprehensive.

"Hm," she remarked silently, "Now that I'm thinking about it, why don't I just transform into a bird in the first place, get into the tunnel and then change into a wolf? Better if it involves as few people as possible. If you can regard Kaye as a person, that is."

She grinned to loosen the tension that had settled itself all over her body. _There is no need to be nervous_, Stella tried to convince herself. Seeing that she was wearing an Invisibility Cloak, she couldn't get caught. It had been a present for both Christmas and her approaching birthday in late May. She wouldn't get any more presents from her parents until next Christmas, but that had been part of their 'deal'. Ever since Stella's older friends had gone to wizarding schools and started to tell her how much havoc they caused and how much fun they had with the help of an Invisibility Cloak, she'd been wanting to have one herself.

Being made of the hair of a Demiguise, an animal that could make itself invisible and therefore was extremely hard to find and catch, an Invisibility Cloak was expensive and difficult to come by. That had been the reason why it had been the sole present for Christmas from her parents. But Stella didn't mind. Such a Cloak was worth ten birthday presents plus five times Christmas. It was a wonderful thing in every aspect. Stella loved the touch of it: as cool as silk and soft like cashmere. Also, it was beautiful to look at: fine and silvery (!) like air made solid. And of course, it was very useful.

After five minutes of shallow breathing and stopping dead at the slightest noise, Stella was finally outside the castle and headed for the Whomping Willow. It was about midnight. Stella had wanted to be sure that she wouldn't bump into any teacher, so she had chosen a time long after moonrise. Having arrived there, she closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly to calm herself. Then she went deeper into the Forest, pulled off the Cloak and hid it in a space under the roots of a linden tree. She looked around to make sure there was nobody who could spot her and as far as she could see in the dark forest, there wasn't anybody. So the girl concentrated briefly and after a second, a starling appeared at the place she'd been standing. It flew through the branches of the violent tree, avoiding being hit by them with spectacular manoeuvres for such a little bird. Finally, it found itself in the dark hole beneath the Willow.

As soon as the starling touched the ground in the tunnel, it changed into a wolf with light-grey fur that was almost white. Stella didn't see anything in the dark corridor that was supposed to lead into the Shrieking Shack, but that didn't bother her. Wolves always relied on their noses and ears rather than their eyes. Stella crawled through the tunnel, thinking that it was really long and then she remembered that it had to be because the Shack was situated in Hogsmeade.

Even in their animal shape, Switchers were able to maintain their human mind which, however, didn't interfere in their communication with other animals or werewolves, in that case. Mostly, they could understand each other pretty well. Stella hoped that she would be able to communicate with Remus. She crept up the stairs that led into the Shack and got into a dark room. Her vision was slightly blurred and there was no light except for some rays of moonlight that had found their way through the planked windows. She could vaguely distinguish pieces of shattered furniture. Everything seemed to be broken or damaged in another way. Werewolves had usually very violent instincts and if there weren't any humans to chase, they took out their energy on the things that lay around, or at themselves, which was why Remus often had to spend the day after the full moon in the Infirmary to let his cuts and bruises be healed by Madam Pomfrey.

Stella the wolf sniffed and suddenly realized that Remus had to be standing right behind her. She whirled around and stared directly into a pair of gleaming yellow eyes. Remus growled deeply and showed his fangs that were quite big despite that he was, also in his wolf shape, still young, with limbs that seemed to be slightly too long and grey fur that wasn't yet so harsh as it would be when he was a full-grown werewolf.

Stella tried not to panic at his furious stare and to flee out of the Shack. 

"Calm down," she told herself and then let out a soft sound.

_It's me, Remus. Can you understand me?_

A flicker of recognition appeared briefly in Remus' eyes, but then it was pushed away by the werewolf's fury born out of the agonizing pain of the transformation and out of the helplessness of his situation, as he was trapped in the Shrieking Shack.

Stella attempted again to reach the human part of Remus. When she communicated with ordinary animals, they didn't talk in the sense of speaking out words. Stella somehow knew what the animal meant and it could understand her in return as well. This time it was different, though.

Remus had finally managed to get a clearer mind. He had tried it before in his wolf shape, but it had worked only for seconds and then his wolfish self would take over and dominate his actions again. But now, Stella's presence helped him. Remus concentrated on keeping control and then he let out a small yelp. Only that to Stella, it didn't sound like a yelp. It wasn't like talking to animals, either. Stella could hear Remus' voice speaking, but in a muffled tone and.... in such an un-Remus sort of slang that she would've laughed out loud if that had been possible in her current shape. Remus had apparently sensed her amusement because he actually managed to look puzzled.

"Wassat ya grinnin' 'bout?" he asked.

(A/N: Well, he didn't really say it, but you know what I mean. I will use the normal expressions for the yelps and other sounds because otherwise it'll be too complicated.)

Stella's eyes – now yellow as well – sparkled with silent laughter.

"Just amused about your way of talking. You speak out only the half of each word. I've never heard you talking like that," she replied.

"U'r talkin'pretty funny yourself," he pointed out. "So... distorted. One moment your voice is high like a mouse's and then you sound like Hagrid."

Stella grinned at that. But it seemed that their talking difficulties had subsided gradually because Remus had spoken that sentence quite normally. Maybe they hadn't been able to understand each other properly just due to the fact that they weren't used to talk to each other like this. That was probably the reason because after an hour, they could understand each other nearly perfectly.

It was about four o'clock in the morning when Stella decided to go back to the castle. She could barely keep her eyes open out of tiredness. Remus and her had talked about various things including the difference between a Switcher- and a werewolf-transformation and the (dangerous) beauty of the full moon. Remus had been amazed that he could think almost normally when he had somebody who was supporting him. But as hard as he tried to keep himself sane after Stella's depart, he succeeded only for a minute and after that his wolf-ego took over his mind and the inhabitants of Hogsmeade had the 'pleasure' of being woken up very early by howling and other strange noises coming from the Shrieking Shack. 

***

The following months passed quickly, mostly because there was a lot of schoolwork to do and that kept the students busy. Stella stayed with Remus every full moon night and they spent their time there with howling, growling and yelping in every tone possible to keep the Hogsmeade inhabitants wide awake and to confirm the rumour that the Shack was very badly haunted.

In June, the end-of-year- exams came and the Gryffindor first-years had no trouble to pass them, since you learn only the very basics in the first year and that this wasn't so difficult. Eventually, the final term ended and the students made their way home. They parted in London at King's Cross Station. James and Sirius were acting out of bounds because they were so happy about their holidays starting. Lily and Stella had stuck their heads together and discussed who would stay where and when. They had promised to visit each other and both were very excited to get to know the other girl's parents and way of life, seeing that Lily was muggle-born and Stella wasn't.

Stella winked at Remus who was approaching his waiting parents cautiously. 

"He was right. They really look a little scared of him," she thought at the sight of the Lupins. She hoped that Remus would be able to convince them to let him live with Silvius Lupin, his grandfather, who was a Switcher and therefore had no reason to fear his werewolf-grandson. 

"We shall see," she mused and let herself be dragged off by Lily who wanted to introduce her friend to her parents.

***

Glasgow, July 14th, 1972

Hi Remus!

How are you? I hope you're enjoying your holidays more than I do. I'm terribly bored here. James left Glasgow a few days ago. His parents dragged him off to Scarborough to visit his grandparents and they plan to stay there for a month. A whole month, imagine!

So it's up to you to save me from the death of boredom. I'm inviting you to spend the next two weeks or so here at my place and I'd like if you accepted because otherwise I might go so far as to write my homework out of sheer dullness. No, siriusly.... rescue me, Remus!

Yours,

Sirius 

Wolf's Castle, July 15th, 1972

Hi, Sirius!

Thanks for your invitation!

You did sound really desperate, so I can't possibly let you down, can I? My grandfather, whom I'm living with now, doesn't mind if I visit you. He said I could stay until July 31st. So I would arrive via Floo Powder tomorrow around eleven, if that's OK with you and your family.

Yours,

Remus 

Glasgow, July 17th, 1972

Dear Lily,

I'm really looking forward to next week when you'll finally be here. Living in Glasgow can be terribly boring sometimes. There's one thing you should know, though. We won't be alone in our house. I've invited some friends from oversea, too. You don't mind, do you? They are a nice lot: Charles Tharen, Jacques Durand, Catherine Westerland and my cousin Amanda Latorre. I think I already told you a little about them at Hogwarts. I'm sure you will like each other.

See you in a few days, then! 

Love,

Stella 

Ayr, July 18th, 1972

Dear Stella,

I'm so excited about my stay at yours! I don't mind you inviting your friends, of course. We'll be having even more fun! I just hope you all won't laugh at me when I'll be surprised about everything different in a wizarding home. Say, do you have a telephone? If so, my parents would like to have your number, you know, just in case.

My father will drive me to Glasgow on Monday. I hope two o'clock is alright with you. 

Looking forward to seeing you again!

Love,

Lily__

Montreal, July 19th, 1972

Dear Silver,

guess what! Jacques, Cathy, Mandy and me will travel by Muggle transport- an airplane! I've never been inside one, but my dad has and he reckons it's fun, even though it takes so long. We should arrive in Glasgow on Monday around six. I'm really curious to meet that friend of yours, Lily. A redhead, like me! Yay!

And I'm really looking forward to seeing your house. Mandy told me that it's over 150 years old and full of secret passageways and chambers. Well, I guess we're going to have loads of fun there, especially when we come up with our crazy schemes again. Jacques said he made his parents pay him a better life-insurance.

Clever boy.

See you then, I hope you've got enough of Filibuster Fireworks at home because I was just struck by an idea...

Love,

Charlie

***

After the summer holidays, which had been very satisfying for most of them, the Gryffindor first – now second – years met again on the Hogwarts Express on September 1st. Lily and Stella were together in a compartment, laughing and discussing the passed weeks. After Lily's stay in Glasgow, Stella had spent half of August in Ayr and the girls became such good friends that they felt as if they'd known each other for ages.

Their laughter and chatter ended abruptly as four boys entered their compartment. Stella's eyes lit up at the sight of Remus, but her face fell the moment she spotted Sirius and James who were standing behind him.

"Seems to be nearly the same situation as a year ago. And again there's a lot of free space," James announced, grinning down at the girls in a manner they both hated. "Settle down, guys."

Stella was annoyed. She didn't mind being with Remus or Peter in the same compartment, but she already knew how it was to spend a couple of hours with Sirius Black and James Potter on the train and it wasn't an experience she'd like to be repeated. Lily seemed to feel pretty much the same way.

"No, Potter," she said, sounding imperious. "Remus and Peter can stay, but you and Black are going to look for another compartment. I don't want my entire trip to Hogwarts being spoilt."

James, however, looked unruffled by her harsh tone.

"I don't want mine spoilt, either," he shot back. "So please shut up, Rosie."

That had been the wrong thing to say. Lily's eyes flashed dangerously. She hated being called by other flower-names than her own.

"My name is Lily, you smug git," she hissed, clenching her fists.

"Yeah, whatever," James replied carelessly and flopped down onto the seat next to Remus who had sat down beside Stella and who was now looking at her with raised eye-brows, amused, but not surprised. James and Lily were starting exactly where they had left off in June.

They all lapsed into silence, each of them preoccupied with their thoughts as the Hogwarts Express left Platform 9 ¾. Peter Pettigrew was looking forward to his stay at Hogwarts. He had now friends who would take care of him. Just a few minutes ago, James, Sirius and Remus had saved him from being hexed by Lucius Malfoy, a Slytherin third year whose foot he had accidentally dropped his trunk on. The three boys had been quite nice to him the previous year as well, but now they had told him to stay around them so he wouldn't get picked on that easily. Peter was happy that they'd decided to look after him. He had always admired James with his radiant personality and had liked the calm and friendly manner of Remus. Peter was a little scared of Sirius, though, who could be very unpleasant if he wanted to. But he'd been rather nice to Peter so far and the blond boy thought that was a good sign. In general, Peter Pettigrew felt alright with the world, now on the beginning of his second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

***

The school year began and it turned out to be much more difficult than the previous one. Sirius and Stella realized that if they wanted to maintain their position among the best in class, they would have to work for it like everyone else. Seeing that they were both quite lazy, the thought of studying didn't appeal to them at all.

"Tell me," Stella demanded from Lily one day, "When will I ever need to know how to turn a tea-cup into a hedgehog? When?! The stuff we do in Transfiguration is so useless! And McGonagall puts too much emphasis on theory. What use is to you the knowledge of the 350 side-effects of a spell when you can't even cast it due to an absolute lack of practice?"

Lily shrugged helplessly. She was beginning to get better grades in Transfiguration than Stella because she could memorize things almost effortlessly and learning a list of i.e. a dozen of side-effects by heart wasn't a problem for her. To Stella, on the other hand, Transfiguration itself came easily because she was a Switcher and therefore had lots of practice in that area. But that was also her problem: She used mainly her instinct and never remembered the theory, only the names of the spells, of course. Therefore she didn't do well in written exams in that subject.

Not even Sirius was as bad as her in those. Apparently, he was better at remembering things. And, being Sirius, he used that fact to taunt her.

They had received their test results that day (McGonagall had decided to test them every 2nd week to make sure they studied) and Stella was in a very foul mood because she had got only two points out of ten.

"It is simply disgraceful!" she thought, sitting in an armchair in the common room and staring gloomily into the fire.

Suddenly somebody spoke up from behind her.

"Two out of ten, Decartier," Sirius announced superiorly. "Honestly, any five-year-old would've done better. I mean, it was _so simple. You're a disgrace to the whole House!"_

Stella gritted her teeth. No point in strangling Black, she told herself. Knowing him, he would come back to haunt her as a ghost. She fought to stay calm.

" 'A disgrace to the whole House'? Now you are talking like a Slytherin," she said coolly. 

Sirius merely cocked an eye-brow.

"Always better than talking like a prat," he remarked haughtily and gave a significant look. 

Stella smiled sweetly. He was on the right way to make a fool of himself…

"Oh. Who's the prat here, may I ask?" she said innocently.

But Sirius had gone too much into playing the superior one to realize what she was waiting for him to say.

"I would have thought that this should have been obvious," he replied with his best Lucius Malfoy-imitation.

Stella's smile became triumphant.

"Yes, well, self-criticism is the first way to improvement. Congratulations, Black. Maybe you aren't a lost case after all," she said fighting back an urge to laugh at his expression.

Sirius set his jaw. She was not going to outsmart him this time!

"Ah, really. How comforting to know your opinion on this topic. But I guess you're only too familiar with lost cases, seeing that you are one yourself," he shot back in his most withering tones, expecting either a sharp answer or a jinx in return. However, none of this happened. Sirius was confronted with a reaction he hadn't expected at all.

Stella, who had already been annoyed about her current grades, realized that she was now losing control over her temper. There was somebody to work off her stowed anger on. Her mind started to buzz and then, some entirely different part of her, a part she usually tried to hide, pushed itself onto the surface.

Sirius saw her eyes darken and going blank, as if Stella's mind had gone elsewhere. Suddenly, a deep growl emerged from her throat, sounding quiet but dangerous and her eyes flashed in wild fury. Taken aback, Sirius tensed and watched her intently. What was going on?

In the next moment, the wild expression vanished abruptly from Stella's eyes and she seemed normal again. Noticing Sirius' disturbed look, she realized what must've happened and decided to make the best out of the tricky situation. 

She gave Sirius one of her sneers he was used to, crossed her arms in a would-be relaxed manner and said, "Scared easily, aren't you, Blacky?"

Sirius felt the tension fade away and be replaced by the irritation he had felt before, but now magnified because he had bought her trick.

He brought his face so close to hers that she could actually distinguish his pupils (which was usually impossible, due to the fact that his eyes were very dark brown) and hissed so venomously that she shrank back involuntarily, "Certainly not by you. And if you ever address me with that name again, the word sorry_ won't even __begin to describe what you will be."_

Stella attempted to snort with contempt, but failed utterly. For a 12 year-old, Sirius could be quite menacing when he tried.

Annoyed about Stella calling him that silly name, Sirius made his way to the second-year boys' dormitory. It was deserted. Remus, Peter, James and Daniel were in the common room, probably studying. Sirius didn't mind. He wasn't exactly longing for company at that moment. He went over to his bed and pulled out a black, oddly-shaped case from the space beneath it. The case contained Sirius' most precious possession if you didn't count his broomstick – an E-guitar. Of course, there was no electricity in Hogwarts, so Sirius had had to make some adjustments in order to get a real sound out of it. With the help of a Gryffindor fifth-year who also owned an E-guitar and several modified Sonorus-Spells, Sirius had managed to get his Baby sound better than it had ever done with electricity.

Now he stretched out on his four-poster bed comfortably, put the guitar into his lap and ran his fingers idly over the strings. He closed his eyes and played some random chords: C-major, E-major, A-minor. Playing guitar always had a calming effect on him. Sirius opened his eyes again and gazed out of the window. It was late afternoon and the rays of the autumn sun filled the room with a warm, golden light. Putting the guitar aside, Sirius went to look out of the window. Being almost at the top of the Gryffindor Tower, the room provided an excellent view on the surroundings. From the window of the second-years' dorm, you could see the Forbidden Forest and a little of the Hogwarts lake. In a great contrast to its blue coolness stood the colourfulness of the treetops that consisted of every shade from light yellow over dark champagne to auburn and deep red. In the midst of those colours were spots of dark green – the coniferous trees. Autumn was Sirius' favourite time of year. It was still warm and the occasional rain (although it was situated in Scotland, Hogwarts seemed to have a milder and friendlier climate than you would expect) gave the nature an air of freshness even though it was now preparing itself to its sleep, so to speak. The raindrops that stayed on the tree-leaves resembled tears… as if the trees were sad that the winter was approaching and that it would soon take away their leaves. Sirius liked the smell of earth after a rainfall. It was sweet and aromatic – full of everything that life was made of. He was also fond of the whispering sound of leaves when a breeze brushed over them and the soft waves it caused on the lake. Usually restless and full of energy, Sirius could spend hours lying in a clearing in a forest and listening to its sounds – it had always had a strange sort of appeal to him, as if he was, in some way, part of the forest, too. The Forbidden Forest was attracting Sirius right at the moment, almost calling him to enter and explore it. He felt himself being drawn to it with such intensity that he resolved to borrow James' Invisibility Cloak and make a trip into the Forest. He had been locked in the Castle long enough. What he needed was some fresh air and no other ceiling above his head than the leaves that would let through the late September sun. Sirius' mood improved greatly at the prospect of spending some time in a forest again. One of the reasons why he liked to be in such places was that he didn't have to maintain neither his cool, sarcastic manner nor his usual air of self-confidence. He could let his thoughts run free and indeed, he used to get most of his crazy ideas for mischief at such times when nobody disturbed him.

Of course, Sirius would never admit how much those moments in a forest mattered to him and how beautiful he thought autumn was. He'd also rather encounter a dragon than to confess to somebody that he had a collection of leaves in virtually every colour from gold to red, protected by Anti-Decay Charms, which he had made himself and liked to examine, sort and re-sort when it was winter and everything outside seemed lifeless and grey. Nobody knew about it, not even James, who, however, was aware of Sirius' fondness of forests which he quite shared. For a brief moment, Sirius thought of taking his best friend with him, but then he resolved not to. Somehow he needed solitude now.

While Sirius was in his dorm, thinking all those lyrical thoughts he would certainly never, ever tell anyone about, Stella tried to concentrate on her Potions homework ('Describe all the magical properties of dragon blood, heart and liver and give examples'). She liked Potions and was fairly good at it as well. Sometimes she beat even Severus Snape, although not very often. Ever since she had learned about Remus being a werewolf, she had started to wonder whether there was a Charm or rather a Potion that could help him or maybe more. There wasn't any invented yet, however, so she had begun to think about what such a potion would have to consist of. There would have to be plants that repelled Dark Magic and wolfsbane, which repelled werewolves. But how would they be able to consume it if it contained such a plant? Stella was definitely interested in a possible Potion for easing if not curing the symptoms of Lycantrophy and had decided to investigate further in that matter. Only that at that moment, she was preoccupied with something else. She, too, was gazing out of the window, which was situated at her left, not knowing that Sirius was doing the same a few more stories upwards. While Stella couldn't find many positive aspects of the first three seasons, she adored winter, which was her favourite time of year. She loved the chilling cleanness of the mornings when there was snow covering everything and glittering where the feeble rays of winter sun touched it and when the air was crystalline clear but so icy it turned her cheeks and the tip of her nose pink. The most beautiful thing were the clear nights, though… when you could see the zillions of stars sparkling on the dark blue sky and your breath formed little crystals of mist in the air…

Stella shook her head firmly. 

"Stop being a poet right now," she told herself in stern tones. " If anyone could look into your head, they would be pretty astonished and you, on the other hand, probably totally humiliated."

But it was no use. She couldn't stop what she'd been thinking. Being a Switcher, Stella paid close attention to the nature, unlike many other people. Actually, its beauty often made her want to sing loudly. Only, there was a little problem concerning that particular expressing of joy of hers. 

It's common knowledge that some people can sing, while others simply can't. 

Stella belonged to the latter.

However, being her, she didn't waste time with complaining about it. Instead, she used her voice as a practical and very successful 'torture instrument'.

"I guess all my friends could sing a song about _my singing," Stella thought with a wicked grin. "Of course, that would sound like a requiem."_

Her grin grew even wider and got a slightly sadistic touch as an idea occurred to her. Stella finished her Potions assignment as quickly as possible and headed for her dorm, wearing a grin of somebody who's looking forward to something very enjoyable indeed.

Her eyes sparkling, she entered the second-year girls' dorm and saw immediately that all of her dorm-mates were present.

Very good.

They all had turned to her the moment she had stepped in and were now regarding her with extremely quizzical looks. It was a very rare occasion where Stella was seen expressing cheerfulness (or any other emotion, for that matter) in such a visible way. Usually, she tried to maintain a cool, unruffled air that made her seem older than she actually was. Now, however, she was beaming like a three year-old at the prospect of getting a huge ice-cream sundae with the greatest of cherries on top.

"And what exactly had happened to render you so uncharacteristically cheerful?" Caroline asked with raised eyebrows, "Did Sirius Black get himself expelled? Or did you find a way of how to get History of Magic classes cancelled?" 

It was no secret that Stella loathed History of Magic, never paid attention and was likely to fail it completely that year if she kept up her current behaviour in that subject.

"Oh, no, none of that," Stella replied, still grinning all over her face, and choosing not to elaborate. They would find out soon enough. The four girls were giving her extremely suspicious glances. She attempted to calm them down, so that they wouldn't leave the room before the show would begin. Stella pointed at the window.

"Look! It's such a wonderful weather! How couldn't I be cheerful?!" she said the first thing that had popped into her mind.

The looks she got after this seemed even more dubious.

It was Lily who spoke up, " And this from the girl who complained only yesterday that it's too damp and muddy and who said that – I'm quoting: 'Autumn is such a useless season. It's neither really warm, nor properly cold. I wish that winter would start in September and last until May.' What made you change your mind so profoundly?"

But Stella only waved a dismissive hand and stretched out on her (still silver-coloured) bed.

"Now what will I start with," she mused quietly, "No rock song this time, they already had the chance to 'enjoy' some of them... yeah! A muggle musical! 'Cats' maybe, I'll never be able to hit the high notes in 'Memory', so that will sound nicely awful. Hmmm. No, I think I'll leave 'Memory' to a more special occasion. Better to settle on... 'Hair', yes, that's good. With 'Aquarius'!"

Stella started humming softly to herself and then decided to plunge in with full force.

"When tha mooooon..... eeees in thaaa seventh hooouse... and Jupitaaaa eeees ailin' weeeeth Maaars....," she began and watched gleefully how the other girls' expressions turned from surprise to pure horror. Stella burst into laughter. That was so wonderful! She had to congratulate herself. Never before, not even at her best moments had she sounded so awful. 

And never before, the other girls had chosen to react like they did now.

Elizabeth, Caroline, Mary-Anne and Lily looked at each other, nodded in unison and Lily took her wand out. Still busy laughing, Stella couldn't block or dodge the spell her friend, finally fed up, threw at her.

"_Silentium!" Lily spoke firmly and Stella's laughter died off a second thereafter._

Now it was the other four girls' turn to grin as Stella suddenly wasn't capable of making any sound. She tried to speak, but it was no use. Lily was an excellent spell-caster, even at the age of twelve.

Shooting the others a dark look and cursing inaudibly, Stella went for her wand and wanted to perform _'Finite incantatem'. Just then she realized that she couldn't do that because she couldn't speak the words out loud! The other girls knew that, too and they began to grin even broader than Stella had when she had stepped into the room._

"At last," Mary-Anne commented, satisfied. "There will be some peace."

Stella's opinion, however, was different.

"Oh, you reckoned that a simple Silentium Spell would shut me up?" she thought vengefully. "Forget it, ladies. Peace there will be not." And with that, she got up and left the dorm, well aware of her dorm-mates sniggering behind her back.

Stella came down into the common room and flopped down onto a free arm-chair, sighing heavily (although inaudibly).

"What a horrible day," she thought gloomily. "First that blasted Transfiguration test, then Black and now this. À propos Black. I really should control myself better."

She frowned. "It would be most inconvenient if anybody found out that I'm a Switcher. Plus, Black feels satisfied when he sees that he's got me angry. And in the past few weeks, he seemed to me like a _very satisfied person. Damn."_

"Hey, Stella. Why are you pulling such a face? Something's up?" Remus' voice came from her right, sounding cheerful.

Stella turned to him immediately with wild hope in her eyes. At last! A friendly person! She gestured Remus to come closer, then she pointed at the parchment and the quill he was holding and mouthed, "May I?".

Remus raised his eyebrows questioningly, but gave them to her. Curious, he read over her shoulder what she had started to scribble onto the parchment.

Remus, you've go to help me! Lily put a Silentium Spell on me and I can't undo it without speaking 'Finite incantatem'. Could you please do it?

"A Silentium Spell? Why would Lily do that? She certainly had a good reason when..." he began, but Stella cut him off with a brusque gesture and scribbled something furiously.

Remus Julian Lupin, you will perform 'Finite incantatem' on me at once!

"Okay, okay," he grinned. "Since you're asking nicely."

He pointed his wand at Stella and said, "_Finite incantatem!"_

Stella exhaled with relief and gave her friend a brilliant smile. 

"Thanks, Remus," she said.

"No problem," he replied with a twinkle in his grey eyes and then went serious all of a sudden. "Listen Stella," he continued with a hushed voice, "There's something I wanted to ask you. You know that some of the plants for the Wakefulness Potion we will be making in Potions need to be picked under the full moon, right?"

Stella nodded, knowing what he was getting at.

"I'll pick some for you, too. Don't worry," she said, smiling up to him comfortingly. Remus returned her smile, feeling as relieved as she had been when she had got her voice back.

***

October proved to be a very successful month for James and Sirius. Not only had they got themselves onto the Gryffindor Quidditch Team (James as a Chaser, Sirius as a Beater), their first game against Ravenclaw ended with a 350:90 victory for Gryffindor. According to this, the atmosphere in Gryffindor Tower was very cheerful.

There was, however, one thing Lily couldn't understand.

"Stella, I don't get you," she said to her friend, " Why didn't you apply for the Chaser position? You're really good, I'm sure you would've made it."

But Stella shook her head.

"I don' t know. Potter _is very good, after all. And apart from that, I don't want to be a Chaser. My favourite position is Seeker and the Team already has one," she pointed out somewhat regretfully._

"You could've still competed against the current Seeker. The fact that he is on the Team now doesn't mean he had to stay there until he leaves Hogwarts," Lily argued, putting her hands on her hips.

Stella gave her a lopsided grin.

"C'mon, Lils, you know pretty well that I'm nowhere as good as Patrick Lynch is. And moreover, I don't want to waste three or four afternoons per week with Quidditch practice. I've got better things to do," she said in a tone that suggested that the topic was hereby closed.

Stella did have better (or so she thought) things to do, for she had come into a phase nearly every wizarding kid eventually goes through: the 'I-want-to-be-an-Auror-Phase'. Some of the kids held onto their dream and really became Aurors and Stella had resolved to do that, too. Having been focused only onto Potions until now, she began to show greater interest in Charms as well. In fact, she actually studied for that subject and Lily was getting competition as a result. Stella's parents, who were working in the Auror business, didn't hesitate to provide her daughter with different sorts of Auror manuals, books about Curses and Counter-Curses and about fighting the Dark Arts in general. Stella was particularly taken with her copy of 'Moste Potente Potions' because that meant she wouldn't have to sneak into the Restricted Section in order to look up something in that book.

Shortly before Christmas, Stella managed to solve one of her major school problems with the help of 'Moste Potente Potions'. One of the main reasons she hated History of Magic (apart from the fact that it was incredibly dull, even more so than chess, which really meant something) was that she couldn't remember the facts and numbers. But now she had found a solution to that problem – the 'Memoria tenax-Potion', which improved the memory of a person. Originally, its effect lasted 48 hours, but after two weeks of adjusting and trying to prolong the effect, Stella had managed to get a 'Memoria tenax-Potion' that had to be taken only once per month. With using that potion, her Transfiguration grades improved as well, because of her better results in the theory tests. Lily was the only one who knew about the 'Memoria tenax-Potion' and she strongly disapproved of it.

"It's dishonest," she complained, furrowing her brows.

But Stella couldn't care less. She had an absolutely un-Gryffindor opinion on that topic.

"So what if it's dishonest? It only serves its purpose plus it doesn't hurt anybody. Why not use it, then?" she replied to Lily' s complaints. Her friend made another noise of disapproval and returned to her Herbology homework. However, Lily would certainly have done more than that if she had known Stella's second secret concerning History of Magic. 

After being able to memorize all the facts, Stella had to face the problem of writing essays for History of Magic that were even duller than the lessons themselves. They always took her very long and Stella had no intention of wasting time with what she thought was completely pointless (Goblin Rebellions, for example). That was why she only rarely wrote those essays and her grades showed it.

But seeing that it would be a disgrace if she failed that subject, Stella was forced to find an acceptable alternative of writing History of Magic homework. 

And that she did.

The development of a new kind of quills had helped her: the Quick-Quotes-Quill. You just had to feed it the main facts and it would write an essay. Stella had found an advertisement in the 'Daily Prophet' and had decided to order one. The problem had been the prize: 30 galleons. Stella could afford only the half of it, at most. So she had come up with another deal for her parents. They would send her fifteen galleons now and she would get less Christmas presents than usual. Fortunately, Luke and Lucinda Decartier had agreed and hadn't posed too many questions, obviously still having their own needs at that age in their minds. Stella had ordered a Quick-Quotes-Quill and from the moment she had got it, History of Magic was to her something that happened to other people. She would have let Lily participate, because Lily didn't like HoM either, but seeing that her friend got so worked up about a little Memory-Enhancing Potion, Stella thought she'd better keep that particular secret to herself.

***

Christmas passed and the Gryffindors found themselves dreading another big event – the Quidditch game against Slytherin. Slytherin had already flattened Ravenclaw and had good chances to win against Hufflepuff. Therefore, the atmosphere at breakfast at the Gryffindor Table was very tense and serious. Stella didn't quite share the feelings of her House-mates. 

"Honestly, I don't get your attitude on that particular game. Whenever we play against Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, you are never so fierce, even when we are going to have to try hard to win," she said, shaking her head in disapproval.

"That's because it's now _Slytherin we are going to play against," Sirius replied, talking to her as if she was too dim to grasp the situation._

Stella shot him a 'You don't say so!'-look.

"Thank you, Black, for that particular piece of information, but I was indeed aware of that," she said irritably, brushing away a strand of her hair with an impatient move.

"Maybe. But I think you don't _want to understand us. I think you're rather fond of the Slytherins, aren't you, Decartier?" Sirius raised his voice, "I mean, you did cheer once when they scored against Ravenclaw, didn't you?"_

Everybody who was sitting some meters around them had heard what Sirius had said and they were now regarding Stella with slight mistrust and suspicion. She blushed and tried to defend herself.

"But you must admit that it was a wonderful Hawkshead Formation they had performed! It's a sporting gesture if you can appreciate a nice performance even though it was your opponent who did it. I was only showing my respect of their skill!" she said, but from the faces around her she realized that her fellow House-mates weren't sharing her opinion at all. Shooting her peculiar looks, they returned to their breakfast and rendered Stella extremely uncomfortable. She simply couldn't settle on one opinion concerning Slytherin. Before coming to Hogwarts, she had heard only bad things about that House, which was why she'd told the Sorting Hat not to put her there. But by now, she didn't quite know what to think. After all, not every Slytherin turned out to be a Dark Mage. And what was wrong with ambitious people? Stella was one herself (in some things, at least). Moreover, she knew only two Slytherins and you can't judge a whole House after Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, now can you? On the other hand, there was Voldemort and the Death Eaters, most of them (although not all) ex-Slytherins. Stella sighed, still not able to decide whether to despise Slytherin or not. But one thing she was sure of. She _would cheer if the Slytherin Team made a nice performance, no matter what the Gryffindors would do. Stella had the habit of doing the exact opposite of what the crowd did._

"It will be a nice change in the routine and they can't lynch me because their parents would have to pay horribly for that, knowing Mum and Dad," she tried to reassure herself and almost succeeded. 

Having finished breakfast, Stella followed Lily and Remus to the stands at the Quidditch pitch.

*1995*

_There was a lot to do, so she'd better get a move on. Sighing, she pulled out a letter from one of her clients that consisted of three rolls of parchment._

_"Probably full of complaints," Stella thought, grimacing. _

_Ah well. Maybe she would go outside to take a look on how Draco and Sandro were doing instead. She could use something to cheer herself up._

At first, it looked as if Sandro regarded Draco as his new toy to play with. He pushed him around and nudged him with his nose. Draco was absolutely terrified and not able to do anything. Stella watched them with increasing worry and just at the moment she wanted to intervene and save Draco who apparently couldn't get on with the dragon at all, Sandro made a fatal mistake.

As he was towering over Draco, some of his saliva dropped onto the boy's head. Draco went rigid at the feeling of something wet and slimy in his hair that started to make its way down to his neck. Suddenly, life came into him. Furious, he sought his wand and aimed it at the dragon, yelling at the top of his voice, "You disgusting, slavering monster! Go away from me! If you ever do that to my hair again, I will kill you! I will personally slice your liver and sell it in Knockturn Alley!"

He glared up to Sandro who was looking at the tiny, shouting figure beneath him with interest. So this little human boy could be different than only frozen with horror. 

Good.

Sandro liked people who offered him distraction, which those who didn't fear him did. The dragon let his gleaming yellow eyes rest on the boy's face and Draco stared right back, his anger having consumed his fear. Then Sandro slowly lowered his head until he was almost at level with Draco's and fumed gently into the boy's hair. Draco was startled by the icy coldness of the bluish-white smoke that had emerged from the dragon's nostrils and that was now surrounding his head.

"What did he do that for?" the boy wondered and then he felt the slimy substance on his head thicken and turn to ice.

"Oh," Draco said and looked at the dragon who was regarding him with a mixture of fondness and amusement. "Thanks."

Stella, who had been watching them from farther ahead, exhaled with relief. Sandro had accepted the silver-haired boy. She couldn't help grinning when something occurred to her.

"It's a proof of Malfoy's sheer unbelievable vanity if a bit of saliva in his hair causes him to abandon all his fears and shout at a thirty-feet dragon. I mean, for all he knows, Sandro could have _eaten him," she mused. "Lucky for Sandro that he didn't tear Draco's robes, though, because on account of what I've just seen, I'd say it wouldn't have been Draco who would have got eaten there," she added as an afterthought._

Stella would have to warn Sandro. Vain people could get very… disagreeable if their immaculate appearance was endangered.

After another hour, she ordered her young trainee to go home. It was better for him not to be absent very long, otherwise his parents might become suspicious. 

Stella was satisfied with the progress Draco was making. He had told her that he didn't like animals and couldn't handle them, either (which his Care of Magical Creatures grades confirmed), but Sandro and him had got along quite well in the end.

***

In the next morning, Stella was sitting in her living room, idly leafing through the 'Daily Prophet' before putting it away as 'non-informative'. It was eight o'clock. Her next appointment was going to be at ten, so she had some time to spare until she would have to go. Therefore, she resolved to start to read a book that had been around in the living room and that she had been wanting to read for a week. Its title was 'The Mighty Mind – Magical Telepathy and Telekinesis made easy'. 

Stella had never been very enthusiastic about using the wand for doing magic. A wand could get damaged, lost or stolen very easily. Over the past decade, she had been focusing a great deal of her powers on enhancing her skill in wandless magic. Magical Telekinesis, which would enable her to cast a spell by mere _thinking it, was the next step she wanted to take, although she wasn't sure whether she was skilled and talented enough to acquire that ability. But before this, Stella planned to familiarize herself with Telepathy, which could also be very useful. She skipped the pages with the foreword and started to read the description of Telepathy._

_'Telepathy requires a strong mind, perseverance, determination and the ability to concentrate. If you want to reach a person telepathically, you have to create a mental connection between you and them. It's easier if you close your eyes and picture the person in every detail you can think of. You have to imagine the person standing right in front of you. Concentrate as hard as you can until you can feel__ their presence and then try to speak to them. When you do it for the first time, the other person should know about your intention to communicate telepathically and they should concentrate on you as well. It's better to start in two different, but adjoined rooms because the connection is the harder to create the farther away the other person is. Don' t worry if it doesn't work immediately. Some people have more talent, some less, but every magical person can use Telepathy eventually – if only within limits – depending on their devotion. Also practice with somebody you know very well at the beginning. Strong emotional connection helps a great deal.'_

Stella stopped dead at the last sentence.

_Strong emotional connection helps a great deal._

What if she tried to… 

"No," she told herself severely. "Don't even think about it. It wouldn't work, anyway. You have never done Telepathy before."

Stella pushed the book away, hands trembling. Then she closed her eyes, attempting to ban the text from her mind, but the last sentence seemed to have printed itself on her inner eyelids and its words grew bigger and darker, as if they wanted to persuade her to follow her first instinct.

_Strong emotional connection helps…_

Her face covered with her hands, Stella shook her head, desperately wanting to forget that particular sentence which had called up emotions buried deep down.

Emotions she didn't want to think about.

Emotions she didn't want to face.

"No," she whispered, feeling a familiar burning in her eyes. "I can't. I mustn't …"

_Strong emotional connection…_

Involuntarily, she pictured him, not like he was on the Azkaban Wanted-posters, but like he had been before. An image of Sirius with his unruly black hair going down to the collar of his robes and his dark brown eyes sparkling with laughter. His grin which, first so annoying, had become irresistible to her. A proud, firm posture. Someone who did not fear anything. Someone who could always make her laugh. Someone whom she had trusted. Someone whom she had loved beyond anything else in the world.

Someone who was now lost to her.

Stella sobbed, not being able to hold back the tears.

_Sirius, where are you? She cried. __Oh, Padfoot…_

Two-hundred miles farther to the south, Sirius Black suddenly backed away from the breakfast table, violently knocking over his chair, his eyes widening with shock and disbelief.

***

A/N: Thanks for reviewing to Szaranea, Ourea, jujubee, Gypsy's Star, J-Kid (Albus Dumbledore was Headmaster, otherwise Remus wouldn't have been allowed to attend Hogwarts. He was Transfiguration teacher in Riddle's era.), siriuslyinlove (maybe not every year, but there will be a lot of 70ties), Maraudergirl86, TL VOP Rep, padfoot1979 and Padfoot's Girl.


	8. Chapter 8

The Black Star Chapter 8 

*1995*

Stella who had stood up, staggered back as the blow of emotions that weren't hers hit her head-on. She felt confusion, shock, disbelief and… hope?

Scared that Sirius might find out who exactly had been calling him, she wanted to break the connection. But how?

Not having any better ideas, Stella used the scheme that was usually applied in case of a mental attack. It meant that she had to concentrate on herself and build a mental wall around her mind that would prevent others to read her thoughts and probably disable them to communicate with her telepathically as well. Also, she wouldn't radiate any emotions that could be sensed by others.

Her fright made it difficult for her to concentrate, but eventually, Stella stopped feeling Sirius' presence. Trembling all over her body, she sank into a chair and tried to calm down. Her heart was racing like a F1 on the Grand Prix of Monaco and her breath was coming short. Stella clasped her hands together in order to stop them shaking.

"Oh, well done, Decartier," she thought bitterly. "_Very_ well done. You are acting as if you didn't care at all and the first encounter, even only a mental one, freaks you out completely. Little hypocrite, you."

Trying to stop thinking about Sirius because that was way too painful, she suddenly remembered where he had probably been now. Wolf's Castle. Lupin's Lair.

Remus.

A whole year had passed since their last meeting. Which was actually pretty good, seeing that their meeting before that one had been more than 12 years ago. 

***

Remus entered the building with what should be a determined stride, but he was unable to repress a shudder. He had never liked hospitals and St. Mungo's was no exception. Having already remembered the complicated way by heart, he walked quickly to her room and stepped in. Remus' throat tightened as he saw her lying there, smaller and more fragile than he'd ever seen her. He hated himself for what he was going to tell her, but he had no choice. He had to do it for his own sanity's sake.

_Fortunately, Stella was awake. In the past three months after she had heard about that awful October night and the following day when *he* had been captured, Remus hadn't been able to talk to her. He tried to forget those horrible images – Stella shouting desperately, her pupils dilated that Sirius was innocent and her final break-down when she realized that he would have to stay in Azkaban forever and that she couldn't do anything to prevent it. After several hysterical outbursts, she had had to be taken into magical care and had spent the following weeks in an apathy which had been both very worrying and disturbing. The mediwizards weren't certain whether she would recover at all.  Remus felt a wave of anger sweeping over him and he damned Sirius with every curse he knew for betraying Lily and James, for killing Peter and for making Stella and him grieving like this._

_"I hope you will be sane in Azkaban long enough to suffer like we do now," he thought bitterly and with a vengefulness he had never considered himself capable of._

_Suddenly, Stella opened her eyes._

_Her friend winced at her gaze. He had half-hoped to find her in her usual apathy because it would have been easier. But her eyes weren't blank. They resembled wells full of sadness, frustration and hopelessness, painfully aware of everything that was going on._

_Remus gulped. How was he going to tell her when she was looking at him like this?_

_So he began elsewhere._

_"You really shouldn't do that," he remarked softly, gesturing at her bruises she had gotten when having duelled with the mediwizards who had wanted to calm her down in one of her hysterical outbursts._

_Stella groaned and massaged her temples in a tired motion. "Don't preach, Moony," she replied wearily. "I already get that from Sean and Dumbledore. Please not you, too."_

_She looked into his eyes, searching for sympathy. "I thought that you of all people would understand me."_

_Remus' attempt to smile failed utterly. But his voice was gentle when he responded._

_"I do understand you. Therefore I hope you will understand me as well when you have heard what I'm going to tell you."_

_Stella's gaze full of mistrust was even more hurtful to look at than the previous mix of negative emotions. She had stopped to trust him as well. On the other hand – she had a point, didn't she? He was going away and leaving her to deal with the shreds that had remained of her former life._

_Remus took a few calming breaths. "I'm leaving," he said finally, his eyes not meeting hers._

_Somehow, that didn't sound as if he was going away to have lunch and coming back in two hours, Stella thought wryly. Her next glance at Remus contained barely concealed rage, born out of the pain and the severe disappointment she had experienced three months ago. How _could_ he leave her now?_

_Remus had known it wouldn't be easy. But he couldn't stay. Stella would have to accept it._

_"Please, try to understand me, Silver. Everything here in Britain reminds me of what happened and you the most. I have to go somewhere far away. I want peace. I want to forget," Remus told her, playing nervously with his robes and wanting to escape._

_His state made Stella's anger subside. She shouldn't vent it on Moony. He was just as affected by all this as she was and although her heart cried desperately at the prospect of letting him go, she didn't have the strength to keep him here._

_"I take it that you are resigning from Black Star, then," she said, tiredly brushing away a strand of her now matted hair. He nodded. "And what are you planning to do?"_

_Remus shrugged. "I guess I'll seek out some werewolf communities. At least I will be with my kind. I wouldn't get accepted anywhere else, now would I?" he asked with bitterness in his voice._

_Stella refrained from saying that yes, in Black Star he would, for it was obvious that Remus just wanted to get away and forget his former life. Unable of holding him back against his will, she surrendered. As soon as Remus had realized that, he sat down on the edge of her bed and embraced his oldest friend, the first one who hadn't been afraid of his lycantrophy. He was going to miss her so much._

_Stella hugged him back tightly, aware that this might well be the last time they'd see each other. She closed her eyes and concentrated on remembering him, his scent, the feeling when he embraced her like this, his smile, his eyes,…_

_After a while, they released each other and Remus stood up, giving her a sad smile. Neither of them cried. Due to the passed months full of grief, they both had no more tears left. Remus bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek._

_"Farewell."_

_Stella got hold of his hand and squeezed it with affection._

_"Please take care, Moony," she whispered._

_Remus nodded wordlessly, then turned away and slowly left the room, not showing the great reluctance he felt as he did so._

_***_

"Here I wanted to avoid unpleasantness," Stella thought wryly, pushing her memories of that day behind the iron curtain of forced oblivion. "I am really the master at that, am I not?"

Her gaze swept over her living room which was bathed in sunlight. The furniture, mostly made of glass and metal, sparkled. The white sofa she was sitting on was soft and invited to just stretching out and taking a nap. Stella contemplated the idea for a moment. Should she take a day off and spend it in her flat, undisturbed? An image of a long bath, hot tea and some good novels crossed her mind and the decision was made. She was going to stay at home. Using the fireplace to reach Sean, Stella told him about her plan and was rather surprised that the First General didn't mind at all. Quite the contrary, Sean was pleased to hear that she'd resolved to take a break and he advised her just to ban every unpleasant thought or duty from her mind for the next 24 hours. Her spirits having lightened up considerably, Stella went into the bathroom and prepared everything for a superb relaxation session, grateful for her hard-acquired ability to push unpleasant things out of her mind.

8==8O8==8

Sirius, however, was in a completely different mood.

After he had reeled back so suddenly, everyone else sprang up as well, regarding him in alarm. Remus didn't know how to help his friend who was staring transfixed at a spot somewhere above their heads. It occurred to him that Sirius might be having some sort of vision. Remus knew that his friend was having nightmares quite often and that he sometimes just stopped dead in whatever he had been doing because he had the impression of hearing or seeing certain things. Sirius wouldn't tell him what exactly those things were about, but Remus could well imagine anyway.

It was true that Sirius' nightmares in Azkaban had frequently featured a certain woman with chestnut hair. The amount of those had lessened after his breakout, though. Instead, his mind sometimes caused him to hear her voice or see her face even though he knew she wasn't there and it left him feeling alone and empty like an abandoned shell.

This vision had been completely different, however. Sirius was positively sure that it hadn't been the result of his longing. The image had been too vivid, too clear. For a brief moment, he had _seen _her, really seen her and heard her voice that had been calling him… asking him where he was…

Ignoring the worried glances Harry, Ron, Hermione and Remus were giving him, he concentrated with all his strength to summon the image again, but without success. Whatever connection there might have been, it was broken. Sirius realized that he was not going to see Stella unless he invaded the Black Star Headquarters. That didn't seem like a good idea, though. He wasn't exactly sure whether he wanted to see her in person again. She would probably curse him on the spot, no matter if she believed in his innocence or not. True, Remus had told him that she had never considered him guilty of the charges laid upon him and that she had accepted the story he had told her after Harry's third year straight away. But she had still reasons to hate him. Sirius knew that and therefore hadn't been able to resume the courage to contact her. He had no right to mess up her life again. Not after what he had done – or failed to do, that is.

Sirius raised his head and found himself being stared at intently by four pairs of eyes. Feeling awkward, he searched for a suitable explanation for his behaviour. Nothing came. So he decided to play it down and grinned.

"Hey, don't panic, you lot. Just thought I had heard something. Nothing to worry about," he said lightly, bent down and picked up his chair.

Having straightened it, he sat down and resumed eating in what should be a relaxed manner. Slowly, the others proceeded to do the same, but Sirius could tell that none of them was fooled by his acting. They weren't inquiring further now, but if he kept up his current behaviour, they would.

"Control, Black," he told himself. "Control, control, control."

After Sirius' rather worrying outburst, Harry had proceeded to eat his breakfast silently. This didn't mean, however, that he wasn't giving his godfather's peculiar behaviour any thoughts. On the contrary, he was beginning to feel even more concerned about Sirius which, given the not-so-small amount of worry he had spent on him in the previous year, was rather alarming in itself. While he considered his godfather to be able to endure persecution, the hate of the public and general mistrust, Harry wasn't so sure whether Sirius was capable of handling his psyche. He had started to realize that the easiness and confidence he had grown to associate with Sirius through their letters and which the older man had displayed since Hermione, Ron and Harry had come to Lupin's Lair was nothing more than a façade, a fragile construction to hide whatever feelings tore Sirius up inside.

"I must have been stupid not to notice all this before," Harry mused, angry with himself. 

The truth was that he had never really thought about what Sirius must be feeling, which he was quite certain had been Sirius' intention since he had refrained from talking to his godson about his dreams and his emotions. Harry didn't mean to intrude in Sirius' privacy, but he desperately wanted to help his godfather.

While he hadn't seen any display of Sirius' negative emotions since the night in the Shrieking Shack until now,  Harry could well imagine that Azkaban left traces not only on your body, but on your soul as well. He also knew that Sirius blamed himself for the death of James and Lily and that he would never cease to do so.

However, today's scene hadn't seemed like a display of guilt, had it? What had Sirius seen that had made him react like that?

Harry had never been good at deciphering other people's expressions, but the intensity of the mixed emotions on Sirius' face, his eyes – darting around, searching frantically… Searching what? Or who? 

This had spoken volumes. Evidently, he had seen something important – or he was starting to lose it, Harry thought sombrely. After all, people did go insane in Azkaban, didn't they? Harry sighed, reluctant to accept that the long imprisonment might have harmed Sirius' mental health. But on the other hand, from what he had heard, his godfather hadn't been the most stable, controlled guy in the past, either. Maybe this wasn't digressing from his usual behaviour so much after all? Perhaps he just generally felt things strongly and was therefore likely to have nightmares or weird visions?

Thinking that this sounded stupid even to his own ears, Harry poked at his breakfast toast dispiritedly, frustrated that he couldn't help his godfather. Maybe he should ask Professor Lupin – no, Remus, Harry corrected himself – for advice on what to do.

Remus sighed inwardly as the uncomfortable silence descended on the breakfast table and the five people around it. He hated to admit it – and he knew Sirius would flatly refuse to do so – but his friend's mental state was deteriorating. He had believed that the post-Azkaban illness symptoms were starting to clear up, but it seemed that he had been too optimistic. It had been foolish of him to assume that everything would get better just like that. It most decidedly wouldn't, much less with Voldemort possibly rising again now. 

Remus regarded his friend who had his head bent over his plate and was eating absently, eyes fixed on his glass of milk as if it held the key to a major secret.

"It's unfair," Remus thought, certainly not for the first time.

It was inequitable that Sirius, who had already paid horribly for his mistake of switching his Secret-Keeper status to Peter, still had to suffer. Remus was quite aware that Sirius' conscience would probably torment him until the end of his days for what he had failed to do and a part of Remus – a part he was most ashamed of every time it resurfaced in his mind – well, this part thought it might even be justified. But his other self, which he had once had to fight for so hard, ached for Sirius when he saw him like this.

It simply wasn't fair. After all that Sirius had been through, he had earned himself a little happiness and contentment.

The problem was that Sirius didn't see it that way. He blamed himself constantly and Remus even suspected that if it hadn't been for the revenge on Wormtail and if Harry hadn't been alive, Sirius might have gone straight to the Ministry to turn himself in now. Of course, there was also the fact that without having seen the picture of Wormtail in the Daily Prophet, Sirius might never have even considered a breakout.

And he, Remus, would probably have died some day with a last curse of his friend's memory on his lips because he would never have learned the truth. Remus shuddered, not wanting to think about that option, not wanting to remember that two years ago, he would have killed Sirius on the spot if he had shown up at his door looking for a shelter.

However, Sirius' self-accusing wasn't the only problem. The second – and possibly the worse one – was his stubbornness. Remus was fairly sure that at least a part of Sirius' bad dreams and visions would vanish if he just went and… But it was no go. He had tried to talk to him about it, but Sirius had refused point-blank to discuss this matter, whether out of pride or cowardice, Remus didn't know. It wasn't because of lack of caring, or so he hoped. 

It just couldn't be.

After breakfast, Sirius raised from his seat and left the room in a slow, almost absent manner, claiming that he needed some fresh air. Nobody attempted to follow him because it was unmistakable that he wanted to be alone.

Harry's gaze wandered to Remus who had moved the dishes into the kitchen sink with his wand where they started to clean themselves. Contemplating whether he should talk to his former professor now, Harry received a kick in the ankle from Ron who was indicating with a motion of his hand that they should go somewhere else and talk. Harry found that his friend was right and gave him and Hermione a small nod. After thanking Remus for the breakfast (which the adult almost didn't notice due to being lost in thoughts), they left the dining room for Harry's current bedroom.

"I'm very concerned about Sirius," Hermione announced as soon as the door was closed and they had settled down on Harry's bed.

"You're not the only one," Harry replied quietly, drawing a hand through his hair in a frustrated move. "I just wish I could help him somehow," he added, looking up at his friends unhappily.

"Listen, Harry," Ron said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "If there's anything you can do, I'm sure we will find out what this might be. But face the current situation. You have seen how Sirius attempted to play the whole thing down. This shows that he doesn't wasn't us to worry about him or question him. I think we'd better leave it to Prof. – er, Remus to deal with it. He knows Sirius better than any of us does and –"

"But that's not the point!" Harry cut him off, raising his voice. "I should try to help him! After all, I'm only contributing to him getting reminded of my parents more strongly these days. I mean, with me looking like my father and all…"

Hermione shook her head in slight annoyance. 

"You must overcome your eternal inclination to blame yourself for everything, Harry," she said in a severe tone, but reasonable like always. "If it pained Sirius that much to think about your parents, would he have wanted you to be here in the first place? Would he have told you all those anecdotes you have mentioned he did?"

Harry lifted his shoulders, unconvinced. "But what did he see at breakfast, then?"

Hermione touched her lower lip thoughtfully. "A Dementor, maybe?"

"No," Ron spoke up unexpectedly. "He didn't look frightened."

Harry and Hermione threw him a doubtful glance that showed how much they trusted his knowledge of people.

"Believe me," Ron urged. "I have grown up with Fred and George, two of the best unaccredited actors ever. I know how to read other people's expressions, even if they are trying to hide what they feel."

Reluctantly, Harry accepted his friend's explanation. "What was Sirius feeling, then?"

Ron thought back briefly, replaying the whole scene in front of his inner eye, Sirius' sudden rise from his seat, the look on his face…

"Well," he began slowly, closing his eyes to concentrate. "He was kinda shocked, yes, but not in a negative way… more like very surprised. And confused, quite a bit. He looked as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. But he must have liked it nonetheless because he seemed determined to make the vision last. At least, that was how it looked like to me," Ron concluded with a slight shrug.

"The fact that he wanted the vision to continue doesn't necessarily mean that it was pleasant," Harry put in, having his dreams of Voldemort in mind. "But it could have been something important."

"If it was _that _important to all of us, he would certainly have told us what it was about," Hermione said in a reassuring tone.

"Hm. Maybe you are right," Harry replied, but in such an obviously unconvinced sort of voice that Hermione felt herself obliged to add, "But if this eases your worries a little, we can go and ask Remus whether there's something we can do."

Harry nodded mutely, thinking for a moment that strangely enough, Hermione seemed to have got accustomed to calling Prof. Lupin 'Remus' better than he or Ron had done. He would have expected her to have much more difficulties with it, seeing that a professor's title was almost sacred to her.

They found Remus – unsurprisingly – in the library where he was sitting, leafing through a tome of his, which was bearing an unpronounceable title in a language Harry didn't know.

Remus had looked up as the three kids had entered the room and he was now regarding them expectantly, suspecting what they had come to talk about. He was proven right.

A little hesitantly, Harry explained his concern about Sirius and his wish to help. He gazed at Remus with a serious expression on his face which made the older man think that he would readily do anything that would make Harry's life _normal _and carefree, if only he could. Sadly, this wasn't within his powers. 

"There's nothing you can do, Harry," he said gently. "Sirius chose to see this through alone and I know him well enough to say that he won't accept help from anyone. Not even from me. He is stubborn that way." Seeing Harry's troubled look, he added more reassuringly, "Don't worry, Harry. Sirius is stronger than you think. He will manage."

They were simple words and Harry couldn't be sure if Remus really meant what he was saying, but his former professor's statement comforted him all the same. Remus was a little like Dumbledore that way. He could be very calming when he wanted to. Harry wondered briefly how such a behaviour was compatible with a werewolf's ferocity. Maybe it was some sort of antipole. 

Silence descended on them as they stood there, facing Remus who was still sitting in his chair and thinking desperately of an activity to offer those three to distract them from worrying about Sirius. Something to put their immediate worries off from him, something they would find agreeable … 

He cleared his throat. "Er, what about a game of Quidditch, you lot? I think I've got some spare broomsticks for Ron and Hermione somewhere. They won't be excellent, but…"

Hermione interrupted him, looking vaguely horrified. "No! I had the biggest of problems in first year when we had to take Flying lessons. I can't ride a broomstick!"

"Well, then it's about time you learn it," Remus replied with a pleasant smile. "Isn't it, boys?"

Grinning, Ron and Harry agreed, seizing the opportunity to lay the dark thoughts aside and do something enjoyable. They accepted that they couldn't do anything for Sirius at the moment and beside this, they trusted Remus to do something if things became worse. He had that effect on people. 

*1973*

Having finished breakfast, Stella followed Remus and Lily to the stands at the Quidditch pitch. You could tell immediately that this would be no ordinary game. The air alive with excitement. It wasn't important that Hufflepuff was the most likely to win the Cup. Nobody cared that no matter how this game ended, it probably wouldn't change the end result for Hufflepuff had already beaten Ravenclaw easily and a Gryffindor victory over the House of the Badger was nearly impossible. Slytherin might have better chances, but they often failed in the final game because they took it too seriously.

All this was unimportant now.

Gryffindor and Slytherin, whose rivalry dated back almost to the Founding, were facing each other again and like every year, that was the unofficial highlight of the Quidditch season at Hogwarts.

The air at the Gryffindor and Slytherin stands was so thick with tension that you could've shredded it into pieces. The teams equalled each other in skill, therefore their teamwork and luck would decide the outcome. 

Having arrived at the Gryffindor stands, Stella looked around, eyes shining. Her former indifference was gone. She soaked up the atmosphere with joy and was reminded of the Quidditch games she had seen in the past. Her favourite team, the Glasgow Griffins usually made a very captivating performance and Stella expected this game to be similarly enthralling.

And it was. The players were shooting through the air like Auror hexes and the Unofficial Quote of Spectacular Moves beat the former one by miles. Formations like cut out from _Quidditch for Professionals_ could be seen and Stella would have termed it a 'bloody brilliant' game if it hadn't been for the outcome.

A collective rustling went through the stands as the two Seekers, Patrick Lynch and Slytherin's Sean Wraith suddenly dived, speeding to the ground like two peregrine falcons or like a green and a scarlet blur, un-poetically said.

Lily and Stella followed the boys with narrowed eyes, holding back their breath. It was going to be close. Very close.

Above the Seekers, the rest of their team-members were continuing to play, but only half-heartedly, since everyone wanted to see the showdown.

Just a fraction of a second later, a green-clad figure rose high into the air with a triumphant yell, leaving Patrick Lynch with an angry expression on his face behind. The Gryffindor Seeker made an angry move with his clenched fist to vent his frustration about having been beaten so narrowly. Slowly, scarlet-robed players started to descend around him, looking tired and resigned while half of the school was cheering and the Slytherin Team was about to choke their Seeker with their displays of affection.

"Quite uncharacteristic for the Slytherins to react that emotionally, isn't it?" Stella commented, not without envy about their success in her voice.

Lily shot her an amused glance. "You forget that two-thirds of the Slytherin Team are girls," she pointed out significantly. "Sean Wraith might be only a third-year now, but he's very promising, both skill- and looks-wise."

"Now you are talking like my old Auntie Melina," Stella grinned crookedly. "She's always making predictions like this about me and my cousins."

Lily frowned, not liking to be compared to some unknown old woman. "Well, I'm telling you the truth," she argued mutinously. "He is handsome and a good Quidditch player to boot. By the way, I noticed you didn't applaud when he caught the Snitch," she remarked with raised eyebrows, having Stella's previous 'showing respect for the opponents' skill' – attitude in mind.

Stella gave her a huge, false smile that showed her annoyance at being reminded of this now.

"Yeah. You know, I'd rather congratulate him personally," she said and in the very same moment, she could've smacked herself for having done so.

"Ah, I bet you won't have the courage to do that," Remus, who had been listening to their conversation, put in and flashed an obnoxious grin.

True, Stella hadn't planned to congratulate Wraith, but now her reputation was in question.

"Damn," she swore quietly while shooting both Lily and Remus a dark look. 

After all, Sean Wraith was older than her, a Slytherin and probably had a fan club now that would follow him around when he wasn't in his common room. Which meant she would have to address him directly in some corridor and congratulate him while everyone else around would be listening. Oh dear.

She had put herself straight into the lion's den. Or serpent's nest, in that case.__

Seeing Stella's apparent discomfort, Lily added, softening a little, "Don't look like this, Remus and I will accompany you." She nudged him in the ribs as he tried to object. "You will just have to say 'Congrats.' Or whatever and we'll all be gone. Okay?"

Still not convinced that this would be that easy, Stella gave in and nodded resignedly.

"But if any of the Slytherins tries to attack me then, you will have to defend me because I will be too busy coming up with odes about Mr. Super Star Seeker," she warned them.

Lily, who was very well aware of her own Charms talent, gave her a mock-offended 'Hey, it's me!'-look and Remus merely commented, grinning, "If you refrain from calling him that, everything will be fine."

A doubtful sniff was all that he got back.

As they descended to the dungeons, Stella couldn't help but thinking that whole Slytherin House would probably appear every second and that she would have to congratulate their Seeker in front of all of them. Her intestines felt as if they were dancing some wild tribal ritual dance and Stella was beginning to feel decidedly queasy of nervousness when suddenly her ears picked up the sound of dozens of feet stomping on the stone flooring.

Uh-oh.

Stella, Lily and Remus didn't know exactly where the Slytherin common room was, but they assumed that the Slytherins were going to pass through this corridor in order to get there. They had been right. Cheerful voices could be heard as the Slytherins were coming nearer and then surprised and irritated noises resonated as the whole flood of them was stopped by three little Gryffindor second-years. At first, Stella wanted to press herself against the wall and try not to get noticed, but Lily and Remus pushed her in front of the crowd, which was being led on by the Star Of The Day Sean Wraith. He surveyed Stella with an inquiring expression in his eyes while the people beside him started to snigger and throwing snide remarks at Stella's head. She was disoriented by the increasing buzzing of the crowd and therefore attempted to concentrate on the Slytherin Seeker's face instead, ordering herself firmly to stop trembling.

"Be calm. Be cool. And START TALKING, IN HELL!" she told herself and a second later, she gave Sean Wraith a dazzling smile.

"Congratulations on catching the Snitch," she said pleasantly, her year-long practise of hiding nervousness and fear of others steadying her voice. "Your final move was worth a Golden Broomstick."

Sean grinned appreciatively. The Golden Broomstick was an annual award for the best Quidditch move world-wide and it was considered to be the highlight of a professional Quidditch player career to obtain one.

"Well, maybe not quite yet," he responded, miraculously choosing to ignore the sniggering house-mates behind him. "But thank you anyway."

Relieved at his friendly response, Stella was just about to step aside, when Lucius Malfoy spoke up.

"It just shows how poorly Gryffindor plays when you have to some to congratulate a Slytherin on his performance. Lack of opportunity in your House Team, Decartier, isn't there?" he remarked and earned laughter at both his sides.

Stella had put her obligatory red-and-gold tie away before facing Sean, hoping that no-one would realize which House exactly she belonged in. But trust Malfoy to announce it openly.

"In case you haven't noticed, Malfoy, Gryffindor was in the lead before the Snitch was caught and may I remind you that the forty points Slytherin had had at that moment hadn't been a result of _your _oh-so-superb Chaser skills," she replied as haughtily as she could, ignoring Lily's and Remus' warning tugging at her sleeve.

"She's right, actually," Narcissa Salinger, another Slytherin Chaser spoke up unexpectedly, turning to Lucius with a scowl as she went on. "You did practically nothing throughout the whole game except for bragging about your new broomstick. Which isn't nearly as magnificent as you would want it to be," she said, her smirk giving her words a double meaning.

Lucius jumped as if he had been stung by a scorpion. "You will take that back at once," he hissed, eyes blazing at the injury his manly pride had just taken.

"So much for House loyalty," Stella thought as she saw the Slytherin sneers focusing on Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa instead of her, allowing the three Gryffindors to slip away quietly.

They didn't notice that another person had followed their example until they heard a voice behind them.

"Thanks for creating a distraction," Sean said, addressing a surprised Stella. "It was getting a bit tiring."

Lily crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Yeah, I'm sure that being carried on other people's arms and generally getting positive reactions from your house-mates must be very hard to endure," she commented drily. 

Sean nodded mock-earnestly. "Well, if those positive reactions are bone-crashing hugs and the house-mates you are receiving them from are of 200 pounds calibre, then it does get a little…um, unpleasant, believe me." He grimaced and the Gryffindors laughed.

"Your name is Decartier?" Sean asked Stella abruptly and it took her a second to focus on his question instead of laughing.

"What? Er, yeah, I think," she stuttered and caught herself at Lily's and Remus' peculiar glances. "I mean, yes. I'm Stella Decartier. Why?"

Sean looked at her thoughtfully. "Are you related to Luke Decartier, by any chance?"

"He's my father," Stella replied, giving the blond boy a questioning look.

"And a colleague of my father, for your information," Sean explained. "That's why I thought I knew your name."

"Aha," Stella answered out of lack of something intelligent to say and the four of them lapsed into an awkward silence. 

Since neither Lily nor Remus seemed eager to begin a new topic of conversation, she cleared her throat and half-muttered that they had better be going now.

Nodding them good-bye, Sean Wraith turned around to disappear in a nearby corridor while the three Gryffindors started towards their Tower.

"Well," Remus commented meditatively. "That was… interesting."

This time, he got _two _doubtful sniffs in response.

*1995*

Apart from that weird vision at breakfast, it had been a rather enjoyable day, Sirius thought while changing into his pyjamas. They had played Quidditch and he had enjoyed flying a broom after such a long time. Smiling at the image of Harry chasing the Snitch, Sirius drifted off into sleep.

And dreamed.

***

Remus was gazing at him, his clear grey eyes full of worry and concern. That irritated Sirius. A lot. Both Remus and Stella had kept looking at him like this ever since they had been told about the Fidelius Charm and about him being Secret-Keeper. That had been two days ago and their behaviour was starting to freak him out. The ritual would be performed at the end of the week and they were already acting as if he was in constant mortal danger and going to drop dead any second.

But maybe they wouldn't even mind that much if you did, _said an unpleasant little voice in the back of his mind. _They would still have each other, wouldn't they?

"Stop it. You are wrong. They are my friends and Stella is in love with me. Me, not him. Do you understand me?" Sirius thought back furiously and tried to ban the voice out of his brain.

_Without success._

Oh, I understand you alright. But do _you _understand the situation, too? Are you sure you are trusting the right people?

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. It simply wouldn't let him alone. Over the past few days, he had become full of doubt. He was suspecting his best friends! The people he loved most in the world! How could he even consider the thought that they would betray him? They wouldn't do that. They simply wouldn't. But even to his own ears, the arguments sounded weak. 

Remus had noticed Sirius' discomfort, of course. He attempted to calm him down by putting a hand on his shoulder soothingly, but he shrank back as Sirius jerked himself away, glaring at him. Remus met his friend's angry eyes with his own anxious gaze. This irritated Sirius even more. Was Remus afraid of him? Why? Who was the one with superhuman werewolf strength here? Unless…unless he was afraid of what he was going to tell him… to confess.

No! He had to stop those ridiculous thoughts. With an effort, Sirius calmed down and let the tension in his shoulders ease a little.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asked coolly.

Remus winced at the cold undertone  in his friend's voice. He didn't seem to understand why Sirius had been so hostile over the past few days. But being Remus, he probably thought that this was Sirius' way to handle the tension and nervousness he felt about the upcoming Fidelius Ritual.

"Look, Padfoot," he began hesitantly. "I have thought the whole Fidelius business over and I think it would be better if I was the Secret-Keeper." He saw Sirius eyes flashing at his words and continued quickly, "It's only logical. You seem like the obvious choice and the Death Eaters will go after you straight away as soon as they know what's going on. Hiding you will be a problem, too. You've got a whole organisation to run. Me, on the other hand… I could hide somewhere in, say, Romania in some werewolf clan where nobody would find me…"

While a part of Sirius knew that Remus wanted only the best for his friend and wanted to thank him for his consideration, an entirely different part of him emerged, the part that had led his thoughts only rarely, but was gaining more and more power these days and filling up his mind now.

"Romania, eh?" Sirius said derisively, images of the past whirling through his brain.

Images featuring Remus and Stella, studying Romanian together, telling wolf-jokes, comparing the size of their fangs in their animal form, laughing when communicating through growling when nobody outside their little circle was around…

He hadn't minded in the past, he had been oblivious to their closeness and private jokes. After all, Stella and him shared private jokes as well and he couldn't say that her displays of affection towards him were rare. But still… there was some sort of doubt, of suspicion growing in his mind that didn't go away.

And that wasn't everything. By no means. Sirius had realized that most of the past Black Star operations against the Death Eaters that Remus had commanded had failed. Either the Death Eaters were already prepared for an attack or a spy or some valuable tool went missing or spells went wrong…

True, Black Star was only in its beginnings and quite a few missions with other commanders went wrong, but this didn't assuage Sirius' suspicion about his friend's loyalty. The only person in front of whom he could voice his doubts was Peter. James and Lily wouldn't believe him for sure and he was positive that Stella would take his head off if he dared to accuse her darling Remus of anything Dark. Wormtail, on the other hand, sympathized with him. Sirius had requested that Peter should, too, belong into the group of non- Black Star employees who knew about most of their actions. Stella had accepted James, Lily and Dumbledore readily, but she wasn't so enthusiastic about him. However, Sirius had argued that Peter was their friend as well and could contribute with his advice and inconspicuous Animagus form.

Sirius shook his head, not taking his eyes off Remus' face. "No. James asked me to do it. And," he continued, his voice irritable once more," I don't know why everyone doubts my competency about being Secret-Keeper. Hell, I am one of the Heads of a spying organisation. I can hide. And find me somebody who's better in Defence against the Dark Arts than me."

He could see on Remus' face that his friend was fighting back the urge to say 'Me.' And he would have been right, for that matter, but Sirius didn't care. All he cared about at the moment was to be alone. He didn't want to see anyone right now. Remus noticed it, he always noticed everything, after all. Apparently, it had finally got to him that Sirius simply wouldn't let him be Secret-Keeper for James and Lily. With a last unhappy glance at his friend, he silently left the room. 

Trying to ignore the pang of guilt that had hit him at the expression in Remus' eyes, Sirius lay down on his bed and attempted to sort out his feelings. He was swept over by genuine fear. Whom should he trust if he couldn't have faith even in his best friends? What was happening to him? Why was he suddenly so full of suspicion?

"Damn you, Voldemort," Sirius thought furiously. "Damn you for making times so dark that I'm starting to doubt those who are closest to me. Damn you…"

***

The image of his room blurred slightly and suddenly, another memory appeared in his dreams. Another face…

***

The expression of worry and concern was the same as Remus' had been, but instead of grey eyes, Sirius was now looking into swirling pools of brown and green.

"I hate to leave now," Stella said miserably. "I just wish I could stay and…"

Sirius interrupted her with a shake of his head. "No," he said firmly. "You have to go. There is no-one competent enough to command that mission. It's too complicated. And I'll manage just fine here."

"But…," Stella's worry hadn't ceased a bit. "This can take me up to two weeks and I won't be accessible the whole time! Who knows what will happen at that ritual. I have a very bad feeling about this, love. I should stay and support you."

Sirius only waved a hand. "No, you just go and kick some Dark asses, okay? Do your job there and I'll do mine here. Everything will be alright."

But his little speech didn't lighten up Stella's mood at all. However, she seemed to decide that Sirius wouldn't change his mind about seeing this through alone. With a resigned sigh, she remarked, "Well, I'll be going now. Don't want to keep the others waiting."

She frowned as he didn't show any reaction. "Sirius?" she raised her voice slightly. "I am leaving."

He still had the images of her and Remus on his mind and was therefore not in the mood of extended and emotional good-byes. Standing up, he embraced her shortly and brushed her cheek with his lips in a quick motion, muttering 'Good luck.'

Without looking at her, he sensed that he was hurting her with his remoteness, but he couldn't bring himself to anything more loving. Not after all those doubtful thoughts he had had, not after the talk he had had with Remus.

Stella's billowing dark cloak was the last thing he saw before the door closed after her. 

This had been the last time he had seen her in person. He would spend years regretting his behaviour. Regretting that he hadn't taken her in his arms and that he had let her go. That he hadn't kissed the wind out of her. That he had spent the last moments with the woman he loved at a distance that had hurt them both. 

Why did he have to trust exactly the wrong people? Why did he let his petty unfounded jealousy overcome him? Why?

***

Sirius woke up with a start, breathing heavily. He was trembling with guilt and despair. It was his fault. His. If only he had had faith in those who had never deceived him…

Groaning, he pressed his face against his cushion and attempted to ban the all-too-vivid images out of his mind. Those two scenes had belonged to his most frequent nightmares in Azkaban. And they still did.

The growing lump in Sirius' throat threatened to choke him. He knew that tears would be a relief, but he couldn't  cry. His eyes had dried out in Azkaban, the Dementors having sucked out everything that could bring relief to his pained soul, even tears. Curling up into an embryonic position, Sirius tried to ignore the dull ache of guilt that pressed against his chest.

Guilty…

He wanted to dive into the relieving blackness of dreamless sleep.

Guilty…

What would he give for a Dreamless Sleep Draught?

Guilty…

Sirius let out a hopeless moan that strongly resembled a yelp of a desperate, lost dog. The echoing sound of that dreaded word in his head wouldn't leave him alone.

Guilty.


	9. The Ninth Chapter

A/N: Hello folks, this is The Ninth Chapter, The One With The Announcements.

IMPORTANT: Starting with March/April 2003, I will be gradually rewriting and resubmitting chapters 1-5 due to the worse quality of style they have, compared with chapter 6 and the following ones. There will be fewer clichés and Stella will appear less Mary Sue-ish (I hope, at least). Lily gets a character and the Trio will appear more real. Therefore I highly recommend reading the revised chapters as they will probably contain slight changes that may affect the future ones.

The Ninth Chapter is also The Chapter Of Thanks. I don't know how you feel about it, but I like it if I get thanked for a review in "public", so to speak.

Therefore, many thanks to these people for reviewing (from all chapters): Crystal Potter, DragonMaiden, SugaryCheeseCube, jonshort, mery, Sarah Black, kylesmom, binkle, Amberblaze, meg, Anonymous, Sara The Great, Alyssa, Kelly, Choco Muffin Bit, FairyKisses, scary miss mary, QueenKitty84, J-Kid, Lady Lupin, *Britz*, PrincessAngel, Dayna, poptate12, ?, Ice Fox, Jade, pippy182, KatyBlack, Sween, Voltora, MaxCat2564, Jessica, Rigel, Jujubee, Ourea , Szaranea, Kat, Torikar, Lady Padfoot, Mrs Grim, Manda Black, Natalie O'Keefe, J-Kid, siriuslyinlove, ook_the_first, wolvesaremylife1, anglicprncss28, Dark Flame, katie, Christy, sapphireskies, The Elfin Child and A.Dee.

Special thanks to DragonMaiden who has reviewed most often. I would like to offer you a honorary job at the Black Star if you want to. The following positions are currently vacant: _Keeper of the Dragons_ (That would be Sandro plus a few Canadian Albines. Occasionally, there are some Chinese Fireballs in the Black Star Grounds, too. Don't ask me how they get that far north. Stella won't tell.), _Sean's secretary_, _Storm Co-ordinator_ (weather-magic skills of advantage), _ice-sculpture designer_ and the _librarian of the Cursed Objects Section_. It's up to you to choose.

If anyone else wants to be a Black Star employee, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Last announcement: Since a reviewer pointed out that this story doesn't seem to go anywhere except for the meeting of Sirius and Stella, I've sat down and written the plot outline until the very end. The last scene of the last chapter is already written. Am proud of myself. And now, I hereby present you …

**The Black Star **with **The Ninth Chapter**

Bam.

Bam.

Bam!

Sean Wraith, who was in the middle of an analysis of some reports on a stolen artefact from the wizarding museum of Egypt, looked up, highly irritated at the pounding that had suddenly started to resound and didn't seem to intend to stop anytime soon. He narrowed his eyes and turned his head slowly from one side to another in order to locate the sound's origin. Sean tilted his head to the right.

BAM.

Yes, that was it. The pounding was coming from Stella's office. The question of "Where?" was hereby answered. But as to the "What?", Sean had no idea. It might have been better to go to the entrance to Stella's office, knock politely and then inquire about the sound's purpose, but not having slept for 32 hours and additionally annoyed by today's load of work, Sean resolved to go for shock-therapy and Teleported himself straight into the office of the Head of Black Star.

The first thing he heard was a startled cry and in the next second, Sean noticed a little bolt of blue light flying towards him. Proving that his master reflexes he used to gloat about were really existing, Sean deflected the bolt with a quick wave of his hand and looked up to the woman at the desk in front of him who was too surprised to speak.

CRASH!

Misdirected, the bolt had flown straight into a glass shelf and smashed it, letting all the things that had been standing there rain down like overripe plums from a tree.

Stella's surprise turned into vague annoyance mingled with amusement as Sean swore softly at the sight of the mess.

"Thanks for ruining my shelf, General," Stella remarked, drawling. "What a refreshing change from the complaining owls and death threats I usually get if somebody is not pleased with my actions. But really, couldn't you have rather gone for my desk to express your displeasure instead of my little collection of things that actually look nice?"

Sean gave her a reproachful glare. "No need to get sarcastic. And, if my short-time memory doesn't fail me completely, it was _you _who attacked me first."

Stella shook her head. "I didn't. You just got into the way. _He _was my original target."

She pointed at a poster of a dark-haired man that was hanging on the door, looking quite battered from all the blue bolts that had apparently been thrown at it. It showed a very terrified-looking face, which was, however, unable to move, on contrary to normal wizarding photos.

_Petrificus totalus on a poster? _Sean mused with raised eyebrows. He knew the man on the photo; it was Fabian Cortez, the Mexican Minister of Magic, one of Black Star's most demanding, but also best-paying clients. Stella hated him with a passion.

"Now what has the poor man done again, huh?" Sean asked amusedly, stepping aside to let through his superior who was muttering _Reparo_-spells in the direction of the glass shelf. Having restored the fragile construction to its former appearance, Stella spun around to Sean, her eyes flashing. However, her anger wasn't directed at him.

"The 'poor man', as you termed him, has torn me out of my superb relaxation session because he suspected his brothers and his sister to plot something against him, insisting that they have acted way too conspiratorly during the last two days. I had to Apparate all the way to Mexico and you know how complicated it is over such long distances… then I had to observe all his sibs and do you know what I found out?"

She was positively seething now.

"Er," Sean tried to put in something, but it had been a rhetorical question.

Stella continued, gesticulating wildly which gave a very good impression of her irritation. "They had planned a _surprise birthday party _for this paranoid psychopath! That's why they acted 'conspiratorly'!"

"Oh," Sean remarked in lack of something clever to say.

"So not only their birthday surprise was ruined," Stella went on, picking up various 'nice-looking things' that had fallen from the shelf. "The whole bloody affair disrupted my first work-free day since… dunno when."

"There, there," her friend said soothingly, reaching out to pat her shoulder. "It could have been worse. Just imagine they would have planned to kill him or something. How much more work and time would have cost you that?"

Dusting off a little Swarowski glass wolf, Stella grumbled, "None. I would have let them go on and now I would be having peace from that over-suspicious maniac." 

Sean merely rolled his eyes, knowing that she didn't really mean it, and bent down to help her put the other things onto the shelf. "Did anything break?"

Stella shook her head as she picked up a box made out of malachite. "No. Pity that _this_ didn't though." She showed Sean the green box she was holding. "I'd really like to know what's in there."

He gave her a peculiar glance. "Ever tried to _open _it? You know, people with less aggressive inclinations usually do _Alohomora _or something similar first."

Stella opened her mouth to say something indignant in response, but Sean interrupted her. "Where do you have it from, anyway?"

"It's from Uncle Aberforth," Stella explained absently, continuing to arrange the things on the shelf. "He gave it to us – that is, Sirius, Albus and me years ago for 'times of great need', whatever that may mean, shortly before he disappeared. But what use is such a thing to you if you can't open it? Look!" She pointed at the sides of the box where three sets of fingertips were imprinted. "We gathered that those were for our respective right hands and they really fit, but after trying every Opening Spell we could think of and every Smashing Hex, too, we gave up. It was probably one of Aberforth's little jokes, you know how he was… always predicting something, but I've yet to find one of his 'prophecies' come true."

She pulled a face, but then let it soften a little, turning to Sean who was regarding her with interest.

"Don't take me wrong, though. I liked the old man as if he had been my real uncle. He was fun to have around, too and undeniably a master where wards and Shielding Spells were concerned. He invented the Vampire Ban, for example. But he was also very eccentric, even more so than his brother, which is saying something." She grinned, a little regretfully.

"So he probably magicked this box to be opened only at a certain time and otherwise being completely resistant to whichever means of opening or destruction, right?" Sean stated thoughtfully.

"I guess. But when will that 'certain time' be? I mean, we've already had 'times of need' and it never worked," Stella remarked, drawing a hand through her hair in a frustrated motion, surveying the little malachite box with what verged on antipathy. "I suppose he wanted to leave something mysterious behind that would remind us of him, no matter how useful or useless it might be."

"Useless or not, I like it," Sean commented while putting a jar of sugarquills onto the shelf. "It's green."

Frowning, Stella turned to face him, not missing the sugarquill jar and sticking one quill between her lips. "Ffo?"

"Ffo?" Sean mimicked her good-naturedly and dived away as she playfully sent another of her blue bolts flying towards him. "Nothing," he said, laughing. "I just happen to like the colour. Reminds me of old days of glory, you know."

Stella gave him a well-known 'Glory? What glory?' – look, finally comprehending what he was getting at. Taking the sugarquill out of her mouth, she grinned. 

"Us Gryffindors were better than you lot, anyway."

Sean nodded earnestly. "Oh yes, indubitably." He gave her an obnoxious smirk. "You always beat us when it came down to the 'Pillock of the year', the 'Most pumpkin tarts eaten in a day'-award and last but not least – the 'Ultimate Tally Of Own Goals' at Quidditch. You never failed to win that one." 

Stella turned her head away to hide the grin that was tugging at the corners of her lips. With suppressed chuckling and feigned haughtiness, she announced smoothly, "There is nothing wrong with sportive enthusiasm, Mr. Ex-Superstar Seeker."

Sean made a mock-subsiding gesture. "Whatever you say, my dear." He flashed a dazzling smile, one of those Stella liked to make use of herself. "Whatever you say."

"Showing your teeth like this won't help you," she commented his smile with a copy on her own. "Next time you make a similar remark, I'll assign you to train young Mr. Malfoy." Her smile became evil as Sean's face transformed into a mask of disgust and pleading.

"No, please…"

"Why not? He's a Slytherin, after all," Stella said with big, innocent eyes. "You should get along perfectly fine." 

"I've read his file," Sean answered dryly. "And I have no intention of instructing such a whiny, spoiled little brat." 

Stella rolled her eyes and went over to her chair to stretch out on it.

"No, you'll rather leave that task to me, won't you," she told him accusingly.

Sean was unmoved. "Exactly. You decided to employ him, ergo, you're gonna teach him what he needs to know. Always remember that it's because of you that he's here."

"A fact that you will certainly remind me of until the end of our days," she replied, directing a resigned gaze to the ceiling and putting the sugarquill between her lips once again.

Sean seemed to contemplate her response for a moment. "Haven't thought of it yet, but now that you're suggesting it… seems like a good idea to me. Thanks!"

And with a wide grin, he Teleported himself away, long before the blue bolt searing out of Stella's fingertips would have reached him.

Feeling dispirited, Stella banged her head on the desk.

"I need a holiday," she murmured and noticed with irrationally great irritation that the sugarquill had fallen onto the carpet while she'd been talking to herself. "Aargh. Has everything decided to turn against me today?"

Her eyes fell on the malachite box again.

"Now where might Uncle Aberforth be at the moment?" she mused absently.

She wasn't at all sure whether he was still alive because he had missed to send her a Christmas owl for the last two years, which he used to do. Then again, maybe he had just forgotten. Or maybe there weren't many birds where he was currently residing. Aberforth Dumbledore was known for his unusual living preferences. All his residences had had one thing in common, though. They had easily belonged to the best-warded locations in the magical world, surpassing even the wards that had been put on parts of the pyramids of Gizeh.

The Black Star Headquarters were built on the ruins of a former Aberforth's residence which had been destroyed about half a century ago by the Dark wizard Grindelwald. Apparently, Aberforth's Shielding System hadn't been as good and impenetrable then as it had become later.

It was still a powerful magical site and the founders of Black Star had used those lingering effects of Aberforth's skills to make the HQ even safer. As it had already been mentioned, the HQ location had been very carefully chosen.

After the destruction of his North-West Territories residence, Aberforth had sought his luck on the South Pole. He had never really got along with other people, not counting a few exceptions and, as Stella assumed, he must have been a big fan of snow and ice. This was very likely, actually, seeing that one of his favourite pastimes had been the design of ice sculptures. His preferred motive was the goat, for some unfathomable reason, and that hobby went as far as Aberforth not being able to resist turning a real goat into an ice-sculpture one day when he had been visiting his brother Albus in Scotland. Unfortunately, the goat's owner, a very conservative Muggle, hadn't liked the change at all and it had resulted into a big scandal (those had been the times when people hadn't had to fear Voldemort yet). Aberforth had told Stella the story a few years ago and she remembered well how they had laughed heartily at his mimicking of the poor Muggle's indignation.

Stella's smile at that particular memory was a little sad, though. She didn't like the thought of Aberforth being dead. He had been rather adorable in his own way. Not to mention that somehow, he had always managed to lift her spirits, no matter how bleak the situation might have been.

***

Several men clad in black, resembling nothing more than statues wrought out of obsidian were standing in a semi-circle at an old and nearly-forgotten graveyard near the sea. The wind was howling a lonely song and the tree's whispering voices seemed to be expressing their abhorrence at the meeting that was taking place underneath the shelter of their leaves.

The shape of the hooded man who was standing outside the semi-circle began to move.

"I sense fear," Voldemort whispered in his hissing snake-like voice while walking slowly form one Death Eater to another. "It is wise of you to fear me… for I could tear your soul out of your body the same way you rid a fly of its wings. However, the cloud of dread is being penetrated by something else…" He let his burning gaze sweep over the also hooded figures, all of whom recoiled slightly.

Voldemort spoke again. "I smell the pervading odour of betrayal. I smell TREASON!"

His last word was a mere breath and yet it rippled the formation of Death Eaters almost as if it had been a gale-force wind. Voldemort was unpredictable at dealing with supposed traitors. He might or might not be lenient. No-one knew.

Severus Snape forced himself to stand upright as rigidly as before. Despite the tremor and fear he felt inside, he succeeded in displaying a reasonable state of calmness. However, he doubted that an unruffled exterior would persuade Voldemort to spare him his fury.

The Dark Lord had begun to move again and Severus awaited his inevitable fate with lowered head and half-closed eyes. He had expected to last longer than that. Hopefully Voldemort wasn't in an excessively torture-appreciating mood today.

With the certainty of his upcoming death, Severus could barely prevent himself to gasp with surprise as Voldemort didn't stop in front of him, but instead rounded on the man at his left.

"Wilkes, you fool," the Dark Lord whispered in a voice forged from quiet steel. "Did you think that your petty secret rebellion would escape my knowledge? Did you really have the impertinence to assume that you could deceive _me_, your Master who owns everything you are, from the last stone of your mansion to your very soul?"

The addressed Death Eater was frozen with horror and failed to answer. A piercing white bolt of light screamed from the tip of Voldemort's wand and hit Wilkes, knocking him to the ground. Snape didn't dare turning his head and continued to stare rigidly to the earth, as did the other Death Eaters.

"N-no, my Lord," Wilkes gasped, hoping against hope that his placating tone would soothe his Master.

No chance.

"And yet you betrayed me," Voldemort continued almost meditatively. Then, all of a sudden, his voice rose, dark with menace. "For this, you shall burn… burn and perish as your loyalty to me did!"

He pointed his wand at the Death Eater in an almost elegant motion and announced coldly, "Watch, Death Eaters, and let the following image burn itself into your memories, so that you will always remember what happens to those who are disloyal to me."

Voldemort raised his wand over his head and then put it down like a whip, hissing, "_Incensus!_"

The red-orange light hit Wilkes squarely in the chest and briefly, it seemed as if nothing was going to happen. But a few seconds later, Severus noticed with abhorrence that Wilkes himself had begun to glow. His skin was flushing as if of excitement and his eyes were shining with a strange, unnatural light. For a moment, Wilkes' face remained the mask of frozen horror which it had assumed after he had been addressed by Voldemort. However, after the time of a few heartbeats, the petrification melted into something entirely different. Face distorting, Wilkes started to scream in pain as his limbs were switching uncontrollably and smoke began to emerge from his mouth and his nose. It was a terrifying spectacle and Severus, a sick feeling in his stomach, would have readily turned away and covered his ears to evade the screaming if there hadn't been Voldemort smouldering eyes studying him closely.

_Be careful of your deeds, Severus, _they seemed to be saying. _Or you might find yourself sharing Wilkes' fate. _

Meanwhile, little flames started to protrude from Wilkes' body and his screams turned to inhuman howls as the fire within himself slowly consumed him alive. The stench of scorched flesh arose, making Severus choke and more than a little sick. As much as he was used to various forms of torture, burning other people alive had never been something he could witness with the sang-froid Voldemort did. And to tell the truth, he was glad he wasn't capable of it. It meant he had retained some shreds of humanity and Severus wanted to keep those as long as possible under the current circumstances.

At long last, the shouts subsided and the fire left nothing but a pile of ashes behind. These remnants of Wilkes' body lay still for a moment when suddenly a stronger wind came up, blowing them away into the dusk of the late evening.

The Death Eaters watched as the cinders were dissipated by the wind and the cold dread of a similar punishment which might be inflicted by their Master on themselves in the future descended on them like a heavy cloud, another layer of horror after Wilkes' death.

"Just like the wind controls Wilkes' ashes, I am controlling you," Voldemort remarked with grim satisfaction in his voice. "Never forget that."

"No, my Lord."

"We won't, Master," the Death Eaters murmured and arranged themselves again into the semi-circle which Voldemort presided.

The wind had become stronger and colder and Severus, despite being used to the coldness of the Hogwarts dungeons, shivered. The trees' whispering had intensified and now it sounded decidedly angry.

_Stop it, Snape, _Severus said sternly to himself. _Trees do not talk. And you'd better keep a low profile around Voldemort now or else you might find yourself really hear them talk. Not to mention seeing furniture dancing tango. _

One of Voldemort's favourite form of punishment was also driving his disobedient servants completely insane by performing Cruciatus on them. Most of them committed suicide eventually and those who didn't were tortured until death. 

The Dark Lord's voice penetrated the mist of Severus' brooding like an arrow – it was similarly sleek and dangerous.

"Now, let's move on to the next point of our schedule. Lucius, Wormtail – I assume you have brought what I demanded?" he said, turning to the men right beside him.

"Yes, Master," they muttered in unison with heads bowed respectfully (Whether or not it was real respect was questionable, but in the current situation it was wiser to appear reverent.)

Lucius was just about to seize into a pocket of his robes when Voldemort stopped him with a gesture, spinning around to the other Death Eaters.

"I won't be needing your services tonight. Leave," he commanded and faced Lucius and Wormtail again, looking expectant.

With an inward sigh of relief, Severus Disapparated along with the other Death Eaters, very glad about not having to do Voldemort's bidding tonight, but also intrigued about what had the Dark Lord wanted Malfoy and Pettigrew to obtain. Severus knew that those two had been abroad for a few days, but as to the purpose of their trip, he had no idea. It had indubitably something to do with Voldemort's plan to get Harry Potter, whom he claimed to need for achieving immortality at last, which Snape doubted he could but naturally, he didn't voice his misgivings out loud. 

Well. This would give Dumbledore and his closest supporters something to chew on until they would figure out what Voldemort had in mind. Because he, Severus, didn't intend to rack his brains over what was going on in the twisted mind of a criminally insane. It should be enough that he was undergoing the task of re-entering Voldemort's service and ergo being in constant mortal danger.

***

"Lucius," said Narcissa impatiently, addressing her husband who was pacing around in his study, lost in thoughts. "If you don't quit running around in circles like a fool at once, I'll _make _you. Stop it and talk to me."

"Of course, my dear, of course," Lucius Malfoy replied in a distracted sort of voice, playing absently with his snake cane that was actually a sheath for his wand.

Narcissa resisted the urge to take the cane and whack him over his head. An absent-minded Lucius was the worst that could happen to you if you wanted to extract some information out of him.

Strictly speaking, Narcissa Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater. Not that she wouldn't have readily accepted, had she been offered the honour. But the Dark Lord had chosen for her to remain unbranded by his Mark and seemingly uninvolved in Lucius' 'business' in order to be less under suspicion if someone from the Enemy's side started to pry in the Malfoy family's activities. However, Narcissa still got informed about the Death Eater plans in the same measure her husband did, which meant quite a lot of information.

Her role as an arrogant aristocrat who was just spending her husband's money without caring or knowing its true origin, much less her husband's true business was widely recognized as the truth in the magical community. Of the already few people who knew for sure that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, even fewer had ever given only so much as a thought to the possibility that Narcissa could be involved in Lucius' Dark activities as well.

Female Death Eaters were rather uncommon, officially, there was only one currently living – Cynthia Lestrange. Narcissa didn't know how much involved the wives of the other Death Eaters were, but she doubted anyone of them would have the nerve and the ambition to engage herself into their spouses' activities. Most of them were bored and spoiled rich women with either no special abilities to speak of or no will to make use of them.

Narcissa didn't consider any of them as her equal, but then, she had yet to meet a person who would fulfil her expectations in that area. Narcissa was – as her husband never failed to remind her – unique. Or so they both thought.

Right now, she wasn't very pleased with her husband's behaviour, which wasn't the case frequently as they usually got on very well. That in itself was a little miracle, for both were self-centred, demanding and unyielding in their own thinking. But apparently their love, or respect, or ambition or whatever it was that bound them together, was strong enough to prevent them from making each other' life hell and destroy the other in the process. For Narcissa was by no means less well-versed in the Dark Arts than her husband. She had seen to that, employing her characteristic sense of self-preservation. You could never know what Lucius Malfoy would do in the future and whom he would choose to see as his enemy or ally. It was better to be prepared for all eventualities, though Narcissa highly doubted her husband would ever turn against her. After all, they needed each other in several aspects of life and they both knew it.

"Now," Narcissa spoke up again, an imperious tinge to her voice. "Will you or will you not tell me where you've spent the last three days and what today's meeting has been about?"

With her innate grace, she rose from her chair and strode purposefully into the middle of the room, right into Lucius path.

He had to stop if he didn't want to crash into her and so he did, frowning.

"Don't worry, I wasn't with a _maîtresse_," he said acidly, annoyed at her interruption. However, then he decided to change his tone, mainly because he had no patience whatsoever to deal with a sulky woman. It was generally better for the Manor's atmosphere to keep Narcissa from being displeased. Her offended behaviour tended to get on Lucius' nerves. And maybe she could shed some light into Voldemort's plans that seemed very vague to him so far.

"In the past three days, I was unfortunately cursed with Wormtail as a companion," he began, using the lazy, drawling tones his son had picked up from him. "The Dark Lord sent us to the Egyptian wizarding museum to obtain an artefact, the real purpose of which he still keeps quiet. As for tonight, nothing terribly interesting has taken place, not really. He burned Wilkes for betraying him – most abominable, the curse he used, I'd have chosen something tidier – then he demanded the artefact from me and dismissed us."

Narcissa tilted her head slightly and regarded him with a gaze full of attention.

"What sort of artefact was it?" she asked.

Lucius put the silver serpent's head that was on the top of his wand sheath, under his chin. "It wasn't one of the very dangerous or really valuable ones. I couldn't tell you the Egyptian name, but it translates roughly into 'Pendant of Perdition'. It's made of a metal I didn't recognize and has the shape of an arrow. Its main purpose is to bring bad luck over the bearer."

He looked at his wife thoughtfully. "I highly doubt that it's the reason Voldemort wants it for."

Narcissa shook her head. "Of course not. There must be other special powers that pendant has. Powers which are apparently known to Voldemort, but not to us. Have you tried to investigate in that matter?"

Lucius made a denying gesture. "No. There hasn't been any time for this. But I was planning to do it now. You will help me, I assume?"

Narcissa arched one eyebrow. "Only because my curiosity is piqued. Otherwise, you would be leafing through those dozens of tomes of yours by yourself."

She smiled lazily and Lucius, giving her a reflection of her smile back, put an arm around her waist and led her into his library.

"Thank you, my beautiful. I highly value your help," he said.

Narcissa just smiled again. "As well as you should, darling."

***

The first ray of the morning sun crawled slowly over the windowsill of ancient stone and made its way to Sirius, who was lying in his bed, snoring unusually peacefully. The long golden sunray finally reached his face and aimed with malicious precision its tickling finger at his nose.

All of a sudden, Sirius sneezed, hard.

And woke up, as a result. Slowly, he sat up, feeling slightly dizzy and disoriented. Squinting into the sun, he glanced toward the window and grinned involuntarily, the wonderful weather outside contributing to the lifting of his spirits which were usually low in the morning.

He slid out of the bed with a grace that would have made most women desperately jealous (not even the years in Azkaban had taken away this particular ability of his) and walked out of his room, clad only in his pyjamas. Sirius made his way down to the dining hall because his stomach was demanding filling persistently and quite loudly. The kids were apparently still asleep which didn't surprise Sirius in any way. He remembered that at their age, he had frequently slept until noon when he had got the chance.

_Moony will be awake, though,_ he mused with light amusement. _The day he wakes up later than me, I will declare myself the Emperor of Japan._

Sirius knew his friend well. Remus was already sitting at the dining table, holding an apple in one hand and the _Daily Prophet _in the other one.

Sirius grinned at the sight. 

"How I'd love to take a photo of you like this. The big bad werewolf living off apples. Doesn't it feel a little… unsatisfying to you?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Not yet," Remus replied, picking up Sirius' light tone. "But the moon's waxing. Soon there will be only meat served. Maybe we should get that Bicorn out of the stables before I decide to prepare it as a dessert," he joked.

Sirius appreciated his friend's uncharacteristic light-heartedness and sat down next to him, peering into the newspaper Remus was holding. "Anything interesting?"

The other man shook his head. "No, unless you absolutely crave to know how our dear Minister for Magic prepares his breakfast and what sort of shoes go best with dress robes. Honestly," he commented with disapproval. "The _Daily Prophet's_ quality is deteriorating rapidly."

Remus put it down and reached out to the pile of various newspapers and magazines his friend had ordered to know what was going on in the world, both magical and Muggle. Sirius had always liked to be up-to-date. Remus frowned at the magazine he had got hold of. It wasn't a daily one.

"The _Playwizard_, Sirius?" he told his friend with raised eyebrows. "That's misspent money."

Sirius became defensive immediately. "Hey, try to be a bit more understanding, okay? I've spent the past 14 years in a celibate!"

Remus laughed. "No, you misunderstood me," he said, grinning. "I already have a subscription for this. You needn't have to order yours."

"Oh. Well, better to have it two times than none at all, isn't it?" Sirius replied and tried to snatch the magazine out of Remus' hand.

But his friend held on to it and gestured towards the newspaper pile.

"_I_ was first," he announced. "You go read something on a higher level. The _International Wizarding Post_, for example."

Grumbling, Sirius did so because he knew Remus was stronger than him and so he spread the newspaper on the table. "So now I'll get served murder, betrayal, catastrophes and…," he muttered, looking at the headline. "…robbery for breakfast."

Remus put his magazine down, his curiosity piqued. "Robbery? What has been stolen?"

"_My _Playwizard, for example," Sirius said, but then read the headline out loud. "_Egyptian Wizarding Museum Reports Valuable Artefact Stolen_"

"Apparently, some blokes borrowed the 'Pendant of Perdition' without asking for permission first," Sirius commented dryly. "I just wonder why anyone would want to steal an artefact that's supposed to bring bad luck over its bearer."

"For giving it secretly to their enemy, perhaps?" Remus suggested, leaning over to look at the picture of the pendant. "But since most people will soon know how it looks like, chances are low that anyone would accept such a gift."

He examined the picture closely. The pendant was arrow-shaped and made of matted grey material – probably some sort of metal, Remus decided. It looked nothing special to him, but sometimes, it was the most inconspicuous things that became dangerous all of a sudden. Like certain rats, for example…

Sirius voice interrupted Remus' dark brooding. "I can't imagine somebody would want to undergo such efforts as outwitting the museum guards and penetrating the wards just to acquire an artefact cursed that moderately. I mean, putting Bad Luck Curses on objects must be what? Third year of Durmstrang, I would say. Also, why would such an object be called valuable?"

"Maybe because it's old," Remus said, not really with his whole mind on the matter anymore.

Sirius shot him a reproving look. "My pyjamas are old, too, but I doubt any museum would pay me something for them or put them in an exhibition," he remarked and grinned as Remus rolled his eyes, waving a hand to signalise that as far as he was concerned, the matter was closed.

However, Sirius persisted. "I'm telling you, there's more to that pendant than meets the eye."

Remus sighed in exasperation because it began to dawn on him that he wouldn't be left in peace with the Playwizard.

"And I'm telling you 'So what?'" he replied impatiently.

Sirius pulled a face. "Moony! Can't you see that I'm just trying to occupy myself with something fairly undisturbing and relatively harmless for a change?"

"So you need my assistance because…?" Remus couldn't resist to drawl, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, don't you have any ancient tomes on cursed objects lying around somewhere?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"No."

"But I bet Hogwarts Library has." Sirius gave him a significant glance, accompanied by a persuasive smile. "You could owl Madam Pince and ask for one."

Remus didn't intend to. "Owl her yourself."

"I'd really rather not. My status as an escaped convict makes borrowing books out of Hogwarts Library a little difficult. You, on the other hand, as a former Hogwarts Professor…"

"And a werewolf," Remus put in dryly.

"As a former model student…"

"And a werewolf."

"As a former favoured pupil of Madam Pince…"

"And a werewolf," Remus said for the third time.

Sirius exploded. "Hell, Moony, what does your werewolf status has to do with this?"

Remus shrugged. "Lack of likeability and trustworthiness, I suppose."

"My lack thereof among other people is in the below-zero area. You couldn't beat me if you tried," Sirius told him firmly and Summoned a quill and a bit of parchment, congratulating himself mentally on managing it without a wand.

He stretched out his hand with the quill under Remus' nose and gave him his best puppy expression. "Pretty, pretty please?"

Sighing resignedly, Remus plucked the quill out of Sirius' hand. "Any special title you want?"

"Yeah," Sirius nodded. "The best one, of course."

Shaking his head, presumably at his own softness, Remus started to write. 

"But please note that as a way of returning the favour, you are responsible for the next week's lunch and dinner, Padfoot," he said calmly and hid a grin as he saw Sirius' shocked expression out of the corner of his eye.

"You are not serious!" his friend exclaimed.

"Of course not, buddy," Remus replied, overly patient. "That's _your _name, remember?"

He laughed as he dived under the table to avoid the red sparks that had some zooming out of Sirius' fingertips at his answer. However, Remus' laughter died away the instant he straightened himself up and saw that his letter had caught fire from the sparks and was now burning merrily. Three seconds later, there was nothing left but a tiny pile of ashes.

Remus glared reproachfully at his friend who was wearing a satisfied expression on his face. "Bloody brilliant. Now I have to start again."

Fanning at himself with the _Daily Prophet _in a lazy motion, Sirius said mock-regretfully, "I'm struck speechless with the tragedy of your ghastly fate, Moony my dear. Rest assured that my thoughts will be with you."

Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, Remus left the dining hall for his study to write the letter in peace. However, he couldn't resist pausing at the door and magically letting a bucketful of water rain down onto Sirius' head. Only then he left the hall, grinning and ignoring Sirius' indignant shriek and his own inner voice which was reproaching him for acting so childishly. 

"Nobody is going to provoke the Master of the grand Wolf's Castle and remain unscathed," Remus told himself with dignity just as a loose stone fell from the battered ceiling and thus summoned him back into reality.

Remus sighed. "Okay, okay. The Master of the not-so-grand Wolf's Castle, then." 

***

*1973*

"Do you… d'ya think he's dead?" Lily asked a little timidly – quite unlike herself.

"He doesn't seem to be breathing," Caroline observed, sounding sorrowful and glanced fearfully at Mary-Ann who was peering at the deceased being intently.

"Sorry, girls," Stella announced after throwing a glance at him. "But I think he's well and truly snuffed it."

"You don't mean…" Elizabeth began but broke off as Stella nodded affirmatively.

"Dead. Deceased. Kicked the bucket," she said. "Though I don't know whether a Flobberworm is ever in the shape of kicking something, but you get my drift."

"Fully," Mary-Ann said acidly. "But I'd appreciate if you were a little more sensitive about this. I mean, he's just _died_."

Lily, however, had regained her easy confidence and took Stella's point of view.

"Mary, it's just a Flobberworm. I'll buy you another one if it troubles you so much," she consoled her dorm-mate, trying and failing not to sound amused.

Mary-Ann shot her and Stella a death-glare. "This wasn't just any Flobberworm! It was a present from my boyfriend. Though of course I didn't expect you to understand anyway, since you've never had one," she said haughtily, turning her back to those two.

"Well, if _my _boyfriend gave me a _Flobberworm _as a birthday present, I'd start seriously doubting his affection towards me," Lily muttered.

"Yeah," Stella added solemnly. "And I'd certainly make him pay the funeral. I mean, a present that lasts three days must be still under some sort of guarantee…"

Laughing, she linked arms with Lily who was grinning and they left the dorm for the common room, leaving an annoyed Mary-Ann and two very awkward-feeling dorm-mates behind.

"Now, really, paying for the funeral – that was very insensitive of you," Lily chided, chuckling.

Stella feigned indignation. "_You_ are talking, Miss 'Golden necklace and no less'-Birthday Present."

"I didn't say that," Lily defended herself. "I'd be happy about a simple rose, it doesn't have to be anything expensive. But really, a _Flobberworm_?"

"Hey, tell that Mary's boyfriend," Stella commented, shrugging helplessly.

Down in the common room, all the second-year boys except for Daniel Patil were sitting at a table together brooding over their Potions homework. More exactly, James, Peter and Remus were and Sirius was engrossed in _Intermediate Transfiguration _because he didn't like Potions and therefore couldn't be bothered with the unthinkable aspect of working for that subject unless it was absolutely necessary for the end-of-year exam.

James glanced up briefly at his friend, shaking his head.

"Isn't that a schoolbook you're reading, buddy?" he asked Sirius with raised eyebrows.

The addressed boy just nodded, not letting himself be disturbed.

However, James persisted, putting down his quill and leaning over to his friend. "And didn't I hear you telling us on numerous occasions that you'd never read a schoolbook voluntarily?"

"Changed my mind." That was all he got back.

Dissatisfied, James reached out and snatched the book out of Sirius' hands to see what exactly made the third-year Transfiguration textbook so interesting for his friend.

"Animagism," James read and paused to make a calming motion towards Sirius who was watching his actions irritably, apparently prepared to get the book back by force. "Ah. Yeah, you always did say you'd want to be capable of transforming into an animal, didn't you?"

Sirius nodded and took the tome back. "Yeah. Very interesting, this third-year stuff. I'm looking forward to next year."

"So do I. Being an Animagus must be cool. Isn't there a description on how to become one?" James asked curiously as Remus and Peter stopped writing to listen to their friends.

"Sadly, no," Sirius said, shaking his head in a regretful manner. "It's a pity. They just say here that it's very difficult and possibly dangerous." His eyes got a wicked gleam. "Just the right thing for us, isn't it, guys?"

While James looked quite taken with the idea, Remus went back to his homework and Peter glanced at his friends sceptically. 

"Well," he said. "I'd like to become an animal at will, certainly, but I've heard that your personality reflects on your Animagus form and that you can't be so sure what sort of animal you'll become. I mean, imagine putting loads of time and energy into this business and then you get to be a cockroach or a toad."

His friends snorted and Sirius announced with his typical self-confidence, "I don't think I'd be either of those."

"No," James agreed, grinning. "You'd be a parrot, most likely."

"Yeah," Remus chimed in, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Same swiftness in talking and just as annoying."

Laughing, he dived away as Sirius sent a wave of red sparks towards him, his favourite way of making his friends stop taunting him.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Sirius told Remus superiorly, "Then _you _would probably be a lamb. Same shyness and just as docile."

He hadn't been quite prepared for Remus' reaction and it seemed that James and Peter hadn't been either, because they looked at him with surprise as he burst into laughter at the absurdity of Sirius' statement. He was comparing a werewolf with a lamb? Now, that was a good one.

Obviously, his friends didn't understand what Remus had found so terribly entertaining and for the first time, Remus didn't feel apprehension or guilt about their lack of knowledge, but simple amusement. He charmed a mock-serious expression on his face, somehow succeeding in not chuckling.

"Um, yeah," he said, nodding solemnly. "You are probably right."

James and Peter grinned at him making fun of Sirius, but the addressed boy just frowned slightly, not out of annoyance, like his friends assumed, but out of thoughtfulness. Why was the prospect of becoming a lamb so terribly funny for Remus?Okay, Sirius had meant it to be a joke, but it had been a lame one and he knew it. Puzzled, he returned to his book, but not without throwing his brown-haired friend a last pensive glance.

The busy silence that had descended on the four boys after their Animagi-conversation was suddenly broken by James who said abruptly, "This plant for the Wakefulness Potion we have to make has to be picked under the full moon to make the draught effective."

"You _noticed_," Peter said, feigning fascination. "Twenty points for Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for realizing this after an hour of doing the homework."

James merely _looked_ at him, missing Remus' shiver at the phrase 'full moon', just like Sirius and Peter did. "Very funny. I simply wanted to know when full moon is, so we'll know when to pick it."

Still caught in the memories of _his _full moon nights, Remus answered absently, "Tomorrow night."

His immediate reply got the attention of his friends all right.

"Thanks," James muttered with a surprised frown in Remus' direction.

Sirius, however, expressed his astonishment about Remus' suspiciously swift response more clearly. "Do you always keep track of the moon phases so closely?" he demanded, studying his friend attentively. 

Remus realized he had made a mistake. His friends had already inquired about his frequent 'illnesses' in the past and they had expressed their concerns about his health only yesterday when the waxing moon had begun to already have bad effects on his physical condition. If he continued to behave so conspicuously like he was doing now, they might put two and two together and…

Not being able to think of any plausible reason to keep track of the moon phases, Remus decided to improvise. He gave Sirius a surprised glance as if his friend had just announced that he couldn't stand Quidditch. "Course I do. Why not?"

It was his friend's turn to look at him, puzzled. 

"Why yes?" Sirius asked with one raised eyebrow.

_Think, Remus, think._

"Because," Remus replied slowly, but as he was still failing to come up with anything believable, he said the first thing that came into his mind. "I try to live my life according to the Moon calendar. You know, cutting your hair and watering plants only at certain times of a month, otherwise it won't be as effective and good as it could be and so on."

He looked at them, hoping they had bought his fairy tale and blushed slightly as they were giving him most peculiar glances.

"Oh. My. Dear." Sirius said in a final sort of voice. 

James looked similarly grave. "Remus, buddy, I hope you won't start with something like… dunno, Feng-Shui soon. 'Cause it began the same with my mother, also with the Moon calendar, if I recall it correctly."

Peter shook his head worriedly. "Well, Sirius, I suppose your yellow-orange bed curtains are history now," he said with faked regret.

Remus rolled his eyes as Sirius' expression became shocked.

"Those curtains emit bad vibes even if you don't analyse them by Feng-Shui," Remus announced superiorly, just as Sirius opened his mouth to defend his colour taste.

"They do not," he claimed indignantly, forgetting his thoughts about Remus' weird acting for a moment. 

Having noticed that, Remus felt a wave of relief wash over him.

_Very good. Keep distracting them._

"Sirius," he said, leaning forward and giving his friend a firm look. "I have to shield my eyes whenever I accidentally glance at them. I've already thought of buying myself sunglasses just because of your bloody bed."

James stared at him with feigned dismay. "Remus, are you going to tell me that you haven't got any yet? I've ordered mine the very same week we moved in here."

"Me, too," Peter chimed in, picking up James' serious tone to mock Sirius. "Remus, you really shouldn't risk your eyesight like this, you know."

The three of them grinned and Sirius leaned back in his chair, looking sour.

"How exceedingly funny. Am practically laughing myself to death." His tone became accusing. "You are trying to repress my creativity."

"Awww," they intoned in unison, patting their sulking friend on the shoulder.

"You could outlive your creativity in some other way," Peter suggested helpfully. "With Origami, for example."

"Or pottery," James said, not even trying to hide his laughter.

"No!" Remus interrupted enthusiastically, his eyes shining with sudden inspiration.

Three heads turned to him, two expectantly, one rather with reluctance.

"Knitting," he announced proudly and James and Peter snorted into their Potions homework while Sirius was shaking his head in a sad motion.

"It has gone downhill with you, Remus my friend." Sudden inspiration struck his as well and he continued slyly, watching his friend carefully, "Gone slightly mental, I see. Rather _moonstruck_, I would say."

If Sirius had hoped to find out more about Remus' dubiously big knowledge about the moon phases, he got disappointed.

Too far gone into the insanity of the moment and too affected by the waxing moon to be careful, Remus replied regally, "Oh, yes, that's me. Mr. Moony, gentlemen. You've hit the nail on the head, Sirius."

He smiled brightly at his friend, whose suspicions about Remus hiding something were allayed for now. It seemed that he was just having some sort of weird day. That's what Sirius hoped, anyway.

"O-kay…," he said slowly, eyeing Remus as if he was going to break into a mad cackle any second.

James and Peter, helpless with laughter at Remus' comedy and Sirius' reaction, took a while to become at least partly calm again.

"Moony it is," James announced. "You've earned the name alright."

Just then it dawned on Remus that it might not have been a good idea to propose that particular name for himself.

_Must be more careful there_, he thought, but with the naïveté of a twelve-year old he hoped that it wouldn't incite his friends to make the right conclusions.

Fortunately or not, they weren't _that _dim.

All of a sudden, unpleasant recollection hit Remus. He needed to go to Madam Pomfrey to drink his Pepper-up Potion that would make him appear healthier and stronger. They had agreed that he would take it in the days around full moon because the others might get too suspicious or worried if he looked ill so often. Excusing himself hastily to his friends, telling them he had to get some work done in the library, he left the common room within a few seconds.

Mistake.

 "Quite some speed he had on, eh?" Peter commented absently.

Sirius, however, frowned. Being in a particularly suspicious mood today he now sensed something was wrong. He didn't know what exactly it was, but there was something about Remus' behaviour that had made the back of his neck tingle. No good sign.

"What's up with you, Sirius?" James asked good-naturedly, noticing his friend's discomfiture. "You look as if somebody had messed with your guitar."

Sirius turned his thoughtful gaze to his friend and bit his lower lip in a manner that suggested something was troubling him.

"Got a calendar?" he asked all of a sudden.

James, thrown by the unusual request, stared. "Pardon?"

"A calendar. I need a calendar," Sirius replied impatiently and nodded thanks at Peter who gave it to him, despite not knowing what Sirius needed it for. Sirius flipped through the calendar, scowling as if he was trying to remember something.

"Now what are you on, huh?" James inquired, getting impatient at his friend's weird behaviour. "Missing your period? You gonna declare that you're pregnant?"

Peter and him snickered but Sirius ignored them.

"No," he said meditatively. "It's a different periodical thing I'm concerned about."

"And what precisely may that be?" Peter said, getting weary of Sirius' cryptic acting.

"Well, think."

"Sirius, we are too tired to think," James replied, yawning. "Why don't you just tell us what you bloody found out and we can continue with our homework in peace."

"Okay, listen. I think Remus is a werewolf," Sirius said bluntly, dropping his voice, so that no-one save James and Peter could hear his words.

Peter gave him a 'Yeah, sure.'-look, showing no surprised reaction whatsoever. Clearly, he thought that was one of Sirius stupid jokes again.

"I think you need a decent night's sleep, pal," he commented, turning back to his homework.

James, however, had listened up at Sirius' tone. He looked at his friend, hard. "That's a grave accusation to make, Sirius."

"It's not meant as an _accusation_," Sirius defended himself indignantly. "An…assertion, more like."

At that, Peter looked up to his friends. "C'mon, you can't honestly think…"

Sirius gestured him and James to come closer. "Look at this," he said, pointing out places in the calendar to them. "Those are roughly the days Remus was ill and you know he's sick often. They are all – without a single exception – around the full moon."

Peter frowned. "And you can remember _all _the dates so well, right? Sorry, Sirius, but I think you have some sort of an obsession there. Remus can't be a werewolf."

Sirius glared at him. "Of course I don't remember all the dates," he snapped. "Just the recent ones and those are all once per month, on that special night. And, if you recall, he's never gone with us when we had to pick plants under full moon."

"That's true," James said suddenly. "He claimed to want to go alone for some reason or other. But he did always have the plants anyway and the Potions worked, so they must have been picked under the full moon."

Sirius waved a dismissive hand. "Professor Atrox gave them to him, then. I mean, surely the staff must know about this?"

"Careful, Sirius," James replied, taking the calendar and checking out the dates by himself. They fitted. "We don't know for sure whether you're right or not."

But it seemed that Sirius had already convinced Peter. The light-haired boy looked at his two friends anxiously. "He did laugh so unnaturally much at your lamb-comment before, Sirius. Maybe you're right," he said, his shoulders tensing.

Sirius nodded. "It must have been really ridiculous for him. I mean, comparing a big bad werewolf with a weak little lamb… ." He grinned.

"That's not funny," Peter hissed forcefully. "This is very serious."

Sirius put a soothing hand on his shoulder. "And I think you are making too much fuss about it."

Even James looked doubtful at Sirius' sudden light tone. "Werewolves _are _Dark creatures," he pointed out cautiously.

Sirius scowled at him. "Remus is no Dark creature."

James lifted his shoulders apologetically. "Look, either you're right and then he is or you're wrong and we're troubling ourselves over nothing. One way to change that, isn't there?" he said, not being one to fear confrontations.

Sirius stood up, looking determined. "Yes. Let's go and ask our Mr. Moony."

Peter looked hesitant. "What about Daniel? Aren't we going to tell him? I mean, he sleeps too in the same dorm with… with…" He faltered, looking more than vaguely uneasy.

"He's got a name, Peter," Sirius said with a hint of menace in his voice. "Always remember that he's _Remus_. Our friend. _Your _friend. Whether I'm right now or not."

Peter's nostrils widened with suppressed irritation at being addressed in that tone, but he complied. "Okay, okay."

"We'd better leave Daniel out of this. Dunno how he would react and I suppose the less people know about this, the better," James announced and the three of them set off to the library, assuming Remus had gone there as he had told them.

Having walked quickly as he usually did, Remus had managed to get into the Infirmary, drink the Pepper-up Potion and be halfway back at the moment his friends stepped out of the common room.

After crossing two corridors, they wanted to turn towards the library when they noticed Remus coming up from the opposite direction.

Sirius addressed him, talking in what seemed an odd sort of voice to Remus. "Didn't you say you wanted to go to the library, _Moony_?"

Remus opened his mouth to say something, but got interrupted by Peter.

"Why do you even bother asking him, Sirius?" he said with a shrill undertone in his voice. "He will probably lie anyway."

Remus' heart, which had appeared to stop for a moment, started to beat painfully fast as fear washed over him like a wave of icy water.

_No! They couldn't know. They didn't…_

But his hopes were in vain.

James opened a door at his right and found a deserted room. Gesturing them to step in, he announced calmly, "We need to talk, Remus."

Had Remus felt sick and weak with anxiety before, it was nothing compared to the nausea that washed over him now. The confrontation he'd feared since his first day here was going to take place and he was completely unprepared. Briefly, Remus regretted he couldn't perform memory charms. But then, there had been enough of lies and disguise already.

Closing the door behind him, he faces his three soon-to-be ex-friends resignedly. "Well?"

James spoke up for his friends as he often did and asked with his typical directness, "Are you a werewolf, Remus?"

_Wow. That was pretty straightforward_, Remus thought dryly. Usually, people tended to beat about the bush, hoping they might be mistaken by their assumption. Such a question deserved an equally direct answer.

"Yes," Remus said simply, watching their expressions as he did so.

James looked thoughtful and Sirius a little smug (Remus suspected he'd been the one who had actually found out. It was a Sirius thing to accomplish.). Peter, however, recoiled slightly and gave Remus the well-known look of mistrust mingled with fear. As much as Remus might have been used to it by now, it still hurt him that one of his best friends reacted like this. It hurt him and that made him angry, the energy of the nearly-full moon contributing to the weakening of his self-control.

"Now what?" he snapped, crossing his arms in front of him. "You going to reproach me about all my lies to you concerning illnesses and such? You going to hex me for what I am or are you just going to stare at me like I'm filth? All's been there already, but I trust you to be a bit more creative in your indignation." 

His voice had turned bitter at the end of the last sentence and Remus lowered his head so as not to see the disgust and disdain which would certainly appear on their faces soon.

Remus tensed all of a sudden, as somebody put a hand on his left shoulder. He looked up and gazed into Sirius' dark eyes that miraculously didn't contain any of the emotions Remus had expected they would. Instead, he saw sympathy and – typically for Sirius – a gleam of mischief.

"So you want creativity, eh?" Sirius said a little meditatively, letting a grin flash across his face. "Well, I bet nobody has ever told you 'What about biting Snape?' after they found out, did they?"

"Er…," Remus tried to answer, but the fact that Sirius was taking this grave matter so easily had thrown him.

He was even more surprised when another hand was put on his right shoulder and James spoke up, "I doubt they did since I don't think Snape has a Britain-wide popularity. I hope, at least." He frowned slightly, but went back to his usual cheerful self in the next second. "But don't listen to Sirius trying to land you in trouble, Moony. He's done that often enough in the past, after all."

Their camaraderie and easy behaviour thoroughly startled Remus. "Are you saying you… you _don't_ mind?" he asked, amazed.

"Yes, that was exactly what I was going to ask, too," came Peter's voice from behind Sirius' and James' backs who turned to him abruptly.

"And I was going to say that I don't mind, in fact," James said serenely, but there was a hint of warning in his voice, directed at Peter to stop him from behaving so intolerantly.

Sirius scowled at the blond boy. "You do remember the conversation we had outside, Peter, don't you?" he asked quietly, but in a tone that suggested he wouldn't tolerate Peter to be unfriendly towards Remus because of what he was.

Peter got the message quite clearly and under the warning glances of Sirius and James, he subsided and muttered reluctantly, "No, I don't mind."

Remus could well imagine what was going on in Peter's head now and so he explained soothingly, "I'm not dangerous to any of you, except for the full moon nights and on those, I'm kept away from human beings altogether." He didn't think that mentioning Stella would be such a good idea and so he refrained from it.

Peter seemed to be a little more assured of his safety. Remus had always a calming effect on people if he wanted to, despite being a werewolf.

"Where are you kept, anyway?" Sirius inquired curiously and Remus was confronted with three pairs of eyes that were gazing at him expectantly.

So he launched into explaining and told them about the safety precautions that had been made for him, how he had got bitten and a few facts about werewolves in general.

"So you're saying werewolves are dangerous only to humans in _human form_," James mused and then grinned as he saw Remus nodding. "Does it ring a bell, Sirius?"

Sirius frowned at his messy-haired friend, not getting his drift immediately. But suddenly, he beamed. "Animagi!"

Remus looked at them suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"They want to become Animagi," Peter said tonelessly, but Sirius patted his shoulder enthusiastically.

"Not 'they', buddy, _we_!" he called, beaming like the star he was called after. "We are going to be Animagi and Remus gets company!"

James seemed to be taken by the idea as well, but he still had objections. "It will be difficult. We will have to get the instructions and all the stuff needed and kept it all strictly quiet and everything…," he pointed out.

"Hey," Sirius turned to him. "Nothing is too difficult if it's for Remus. Okay?"

James held up his hands in mock-resignation. He hadn't really meant to not become Animagus, anyway. "Okay."

 Peter sighed. "I _don't _want to be a cockroach."

His friends grinned.

"Don't worry, Peter, you won't," James told him reassuringly. "We'll see to that."

"Yeah, we'll help you," Sirius added, feeling generous and Peter smiled gratefully.

His friends would help him. Everything was going to be alright.

"Okay," Peter said and even raised his head to smile at Remus who grinned back in return.

Remus had to pinch himself to assure he wasn't dreaming. How could one's life change that rapidly within a quarter of an hour? How come they didn't detest him like they were supposed to? 

He was dazed from surprise and happiness. His friends hadn't turned against him. More than that, they had decided to become Animagi for him!

Remus didn't know it yet, but whenever he would need to conjure a Patronus in the future, this particular memory would always be the one to create one of the strongest Patroni. The happiness of that special moment was always going to lighten up his mood, even in his darkest hours and it was also going to become one of the reasons why years later, Remus wasn't going to bring it over himself to reveal Sirius' secret to the Ministry, despite considering him guilty.

***


	10. Chapter 10

The Black Star 10 

Summary: This chapter is a cocktail containing two important meetings, one illegal wand, a Seventies - scene, lots of artefacts and Sevi's favourite drink.

Disclaimer: Almost all of the artefact names are taken out of Heroes of Might and Magic 3 except for the Pendant of Perdition and the Sentry Spheres.

A/N: Even though this is an AU, you will notice some parallels to Order of the Phoenix. That's because some things were the same as I had planned them anyway and some other things just fitted well into this fic. Somebody wanted to know whether Aberforth Dumbledore is Stella's uncle. No, they are not relatives, she just calls him 'Uncle'.

IMPORTANT: Please note that the first chapter has been revised. I recommed reading it again, it has influence on this chapter.

**@Natalie O'Keefe:** I don't have your e-mail address, so I'll try to contact you this way… what sort of position would you like to have at Black Star? In the Author's Note of Chapter Nine, you can view the vacant posts, but if you have an idea yourself, tell me, I'm open to suggestions…

And of course, anyone who wants a job at Black Star, contact me ;-). 

**_August, 1995_**

****

Stella was frozen with shock. Her blood had turned into ice-water all of a sudden, penetrating all parts of her body and leaving her feeling numb with cold dread.

This wasn't happening. It just couldn't be true. Her breath was caught somewhere in her chest since her throat seemed to have undergone a crash-diet – it was so narrow she could hardly breathe. Stella leaned forward to examine the horrendous, incredible, impossible… white hair on her head in the mirror.

She stared at it with utter disbelief, but the hair failed to be impressed with those rarely seen expressions on her face and remained firmly where it was. Stella's horrified incredulity melted into frustrated anger as she ripped out the hair in a quick motion, looking at her reflection crossly.

"You are getting old," she told it, observing discontentedly the movements of her lips and the wrinkles that appeared on her face when she spoke.

Sure, every facial expression produces wrinkles, but Stella hadn't been aware of how _many _they actually were. Grimacing suddenly, she called herself to a halt. What on earth was she doing? There was so much real misery in the world outside and she was concerned about a few wrinkles and a white hair?

"It's getting downhill with you, Decartier," she admonished herself sternly. "You're vain like a primadonna which you're far from becoming. Get a grip on yourself!"

That helped her a little, but it didn't stop Stella from ordering some Beauty Charms from _La Bellissima_, an Italian cosmetic label for witches. She would stop getting worked up about her deteriorating appearance, but surely there was nothing wrong with trying to counteract the aging process with all the means you had at your disposal, was it?

Once again, Stella thanked her fate for providing her with enough money to be able to afford such little comforts of life. She had grown up largely among people who had been convinced that material wealth didn't really matter – a typical Gryffindor belief which Stella used to have herself until real life found her after her graduation from Hogwarts and taught her that material wealth did not only make your life more pleasant usually but that it was, in fact, one of the moving forces of society. Money very often equalled power.

Stella remembered well how disillusioned and disgusted she'd been at that discovery, partly of the fact itself and partly of her own naïveté. It had dawned on her how protected or rather isolated from the real life she had been at Hogwarts. It had been difficult times, demanding resourcefulness, alertness and adaptability, but somehow – and not without a great deal of help from numerous acquaintances and of course, her friends, she had managed to find her place in society. Sometimes, Stella wondered about how exactly she had accomplished that task without cracking up in the process. But then again, that had been the time where she had had Sirius and Remus on her sides. The time Lily and James had been alive. Stella let the memories linger for a moment to savour a little in them, but after a short while she pushed them firmly away, into the section of her brain where she kept those and similar remembrances treasured and protected like crown jewels.

There had been enough of recollection. It was time for business. She rose from her chair and left her office for the Portkey Hall to get a Portkey to London where she was supposed to meet an informant in the _Dancing Dragon_. As a security measure, the fireplaces in the Black Star headquarters weren't connected to the Floo Network and since Apparating over such large distances was too straining, the only viable alternative of getting away from the HQ (for the access, the employees had the Crossing Spell) were the Portkeys, which worked outside the HQ grounds. The Portkey Hall would certainly have looked very peculiar to strangers. There were shelves with hundreds of little objects that an unsuspecting would have classified as simple litter: scraps of parchment, broken quills, battered shoes, shoelaces, old bottles of ink,…

But however inconspicuous and useless all those tools might have seemed, they could take a person almost anywhere in the world. Stella was very proud of the Portkey Hall. Smiling with contentment to herself about this particular invention, she went over to the Guardian of the Portkeys, Paul Montgolfier, a Quebequois whom she was quite fond of because of his outgoing personality and friendly behaviour. His wife, the subject of his adoration as far as Stella knew, was certainly a very lucky person. 

Paul directed his brown gaze and a light smile to his superior and addressed her in French.

"_Bonjour, Stella. Comment pourrais-je vous servir?_"

Stella returned his smile, replying in French which she had learned in early childhood due to her father's trying, who had been from Quebec as well, "_Je dois aller à Londres, Paul. __Pouvez-vous me pourvoir de quelquechose d'utile là?_"

Her inferior nodded and summoned and summoned something that looked suspiciously like an empty packet of condoms. Stella's eyebrows went up to her hairline as she took the proffered Portkey. Witches and wizards normally used various magical means of contraception, but they weren't unfamiliar with the Muggle means, either.

Paul grinned, faking an apologetic shrug and saying that this had been the last one in store for London that day as those particular Portkeys were always very in demand.

"_Bon voyage_," he said with a twinkle in his dark eyes at Stella's now faintly amused expression. 

Nodding thanks, she left the Portkey Hall swiftly and made her way out of the building and across the grounds, shivering slightly at the freezing temperatures.

_One good thing about London, _she thought dryly while whirling away in the Portkey process. _It's always warmer than here, if nothing else._

***

Harry woke up slowly, stretching like a cat and enjoying the feeling of leaving the realm of sleep in a place where he could welcome every new day and not feel nauseated like at the Dursley's. A brief glance at his watch informed him that it was already past nine o'clock which was an unusual time for him to wake up. Harry was a morning person.  
He looked over to Ron's bed which was opposite his and saw that his friend was still fast asleep, wearing a look of deep contentment on his face. The reason for such an expression Harry could only guess. However, the murmured words that escaped from Ron's half-opened mouth suggested he was dreaming about Quidditch - not very surprising, as far as Harry was  
concerned.   
Deciding not to end his friend's apparent Quidditch-success abruptly by waking him, Harry resolved to go downstairs and have breakfast alone. Alone was of course a relative term; he assumed that Remus and Hermione, possibly even Sirius would be awake already. However, as he was putting on a T-shirt, Ron began to stir and opening one eye, regarded his black-haired friend sleepily.  
"Where you goin'?" he asked, yawning.  
"Downstairs, I'm starving," Harry replied while trying to find his socks.  
Ron nodded and stretched much the same way the other boy had done before. "Wait a sec, I'll come with you."  
He rose from his bed and had just started dressing when a glance out of the window stopped him in mid-movement. Ron turned to his friend with sparkling eyes.  
"Have you looked outside already?" he asked enthusiastically. "The perfect weather for Quidditch, if you ask me. We gotta make use of it, what d'you think?"  
Harry gave him a crooked smile. "I'd like nothing better. But don't you remember what Hermione said yesterday?"  
"No, I forgot, what was it?" Ron asked, unperturbed by his lack of information.  
Harry had found his socks at last and while bending down to put them on, he answered, sounding less than thrilled, "She wants us to begin with our holiday homework today, because else, as she put it, we wouldn't start until the last day of summer break and nothing would get finished. I think she's exaggerating. We don't do that, after all, now do we?"  
"Speak for yourself, Harry," Ron replied, grinning because something had occurred to him. "Look, we can as well start in the afternoon, can't we? But until lunch, time will belong to Quidditch. I'm sure Sirius will agree with us on that one."  
Harry grinned back. "He will."  
They descended the stairs and made their way into the dining hall where, to their great bewilderment, they found Sirius who had water dripping from his clothes and an air of mingled amusement and annoyance around him.  
"You have a very unique way of taking your morning shower, Sirius," Ron remarked, cocking one eyebrow.   
"I suppose so," the older man answered with a crooked grin. "Must give Remus my thanks for upholding my _individuality_."  
"Why did he do that, anyway?" Harry asked while the two boys took seats and helped themselves to toast and porridge respectively.  
Sirius looked shifty. "No idea," he responded, not sounding convincing in the least.  
Harry gave him a broad grin. "Right."  
"Okay, okay," Sirius conceded. "I might've teased him somewhat."  
Ron shook his head in feigned disbelief. "Can't be. Sirius Black, teasing someone? Unbelievable."  
Sirius gave the red-headed boy an overly friendly smile. "Would you consider hexing more appropriate?" The words might have had a menacing undertone, but he grinned to show he was (at least partly) joking.  
"No comment," Ron answered, giving Sirius a slightly suspicious look.  
Grinning at their banter, Harry turned to his godfather to ask him whether he wanted to play Quidditch with the two boys after breakfast.  
Sirius eyes lightened up at the prospect. "Sure."  
"I suggest you be the Beater, since you played the position in school," Ron said. "I will be Keeper and Harry will play Chaser, alright?" He continued, throwing an inquiring glance at his friend.  
Harry nodded to signify that he didn't mind and both boys returned to their breakfast while Sirius performed a Drying Spell on himself. He felt a surge of happiness flooding his mind as he succeeded in casting it without a wand. Azkaban was said to drain one's magical powers, but his didn't seem to have diminished, as far as he had had the chance to notice. Sirius didn't know why they had obviously remained largely intact, but he was very grateful since he had always prided himself on being quite a powerful wizard. Feeling content, which he rarely did in these times, he leaned back in his chair and waited, uncharacteristically patient, for the two boys to finish their breakfast.

***

Severus Snape strode purposefully through the hustle-bustle of Diagon Alley which was cramped with people as usual, feeling distinctly uneasy. Like Stella (which he was, of course, unaware of), he felt nervous and inhibited in crowds and therefore usually tried to avoid them. Diagon Alley, however, was always chock-full with witches and wizards, much to his chagrin and one of the reasons why he kept his visits of that particular part of magical London as rare as possible. Another damper on his already foul mood these days was the fact that despite that resolution of his, he had had to grace Diagon Alley with his presence quite a few times in the past two weeks, which was decidedly several times too much, in Severus' opinion. If at least the reason of his frequent visits had been pleasant, but no, he was forced to meet a woman he didn't like and report to her things he didn't want to revive in his mind so often. One would have thought that Dumbledore could pass the information on to Stella Decartier. But the Hogwarts Headmaster had requested that Severus kept her informed first-hand of what was going on in the Death Eater ranks and who was he to refuse the wish of the sole wizard who had ever trusted him after his desertion of the Circle and had given him a second chance? In spite of his partly Dark past, Severus Snape had a kind of a sense of honour which made him comply with Dumbledore's orders even if he was strongly opposed against them.

His eyes darted around, seeking out the sign of the _Dancing Dragon _and pausing as they found it, appreciating, as always, the delicate artwork of the dragon picture on the signboard. Severus wasn't overly fond of those animals, he preferred birds of prey and snakes, but nevertheless he could see the beauty and elegance that made that particular dragon breed, the Canadian Albine, so fascinating. With the usual feeling of being somehow pierced through by the dragon's red smouldering stare, Snape entered the pub and relaxed immediately. He had stopped wondering about why he felt so comfortable in the _Dancing Dragon _after his third visit without having ascertained the exact reason. Maybe the key factor was that the pub resembled Snape's dungeon quarters at Hogwarts. The ambiance was similar, though of course Snape couldn't pride himself on having a ceiling that looked like the sky with wind-harassed clouds in the colour range from ghostly white over silver, pewter and slate till black. You almost expected lightning bolts flashing over that unique ceiling, but as far as Severus knew, it never actually happened.

He was early. Snape told himself it was due to his extreme punctuality, but he had a feeling that he had unconsciously wanted some time for himself in this place he seemed to be magically drawn to, in a manner he couldn't explain and for a reason he couldn't discern.

_That's the only good thing about a meeting with Decartier, _Severus thought. _This place. _

Unhurriedly, he made his way to the bar with its bartender who looked too much like a vampire for Snape wanting to come any closer to him than four feet.

"One _Morgan's Ache_, double-shot of dragon-blood," he muttered and dug some silver coins out of his pocket as the bartender placed a high narrow glass full of purple and red liquid in front of the Hogwarts Potions Master.

Severus took his drink, trying not to think about the way the bartender had licked his lips, baring his teeth that had indeed seemed to be a little pointed in the process. Attempting and failing to convince himself that it must have been his overly lively imagination, Snape moved over to his favourite place in the farther corner of the main room where he had the best view of the place and the front door. "The best view" was, of course, a relative term since everything was immersed with the strange dim twilight so characteristic for this pub.

Slowly, Severus traced the edges of his table with his fingertips while enjoying the bittersweet liquid running down his throat and wondering once again what material the pub's interior was made of. It couldn't be black marble because it lacked the typical lighter patterns that permeated this particular sort of stone. Snape finally settled on obsidian, a pitch-black volcanic material. He consulted his watch and the two hands on the display informed him that he was supposed to meet the Head of Black Star in two minutes. He'd better start making his way towards the room they had always convened so far.

The door wasn't locked and Snape, preferring to wait sitting rather than standing like an idiot in the middle of the corridor, went in to take place at the lone table standing in the farther corner of the room.  As he stepped in, he couldn't repress a surprised intake of breath for the torches in the chamber, ordinarily having their normal colour of red and gold, were silver and green instead. 

_What's that supposed to mean? _he wondered, frowning while seating himself on one of the chairs. Of course, he couldn't know about Stella's colour preferences that could be called unheard of among Gryffindors and that's why he was quite confused. Could it be that she had let the torches be coloured that way for _his_ benefit? Somehow, that sounded very unlikely to Severus' ears. He knew she didn't hate him like most of her friends back at school had done, but this would almost equal what? A sign of amicable behaviour, which would be most intriguing indeed. Snape couldn't imagine why Stella Decartier would want to be friendly towards him. Not that Severus minded her usual cool indifference and neither could he blame her for that – after all, he had almost caused her ex to be Dementor-kissed, the man she had loved and apparently still cared for very much, although Snape couldn't fathom why. As far as he could remember, Black and Decartier hadn't been able to stand each other first at Hogwarts and plus, he considered Sirius Black about as repulsive and insufferable as the other man regarded him. Severus didn't intend in the slightest to trouble himself with Decartier's attitude towards Black and himself, but nonetheless, he was curious why she had accepted him, Snape, as an agent so readily and why she didn't show any particular signs of hostility. Then again, he had Dumbledore on his side and he knew Stella highly respected her former Headmaster. Moreover, she had certainly had enough practice in dealing with people she didn't like and therefore could probably mask her disgust, contempt or whatever else quite well.

_Not that it really matters, anyway_, Severus thought lazily.

They had a business deal. Money in exchange for information. And now that she'd lost Wilkes (for Severus was quite sure that this had been Wilkes' 'petty rebellion' as Voldemort had termed it), she would need him even more. Maybe he should insist on a wage increase. But finally, Snape decided against that, telling himself that he didn't really need the money. He wouldn't admit, of course, that it was probably his grudging respect for Stella that had prevented him instead. This respect wasn't founded on her achievements concerning Black Star, however. Snape couldn't care less about that organization or about the people behind it. He was neither impressed by Stella's magical abilities nor by her appearance because she was not his type. But what he had to admire, albeit involuntarily, were her Potions skills that equalled his own, which was saying something. Snape knew he excelled in his expertise – that wasn't bragging, but a simple fact. He had found out by coincidence that she had published many articles, works and dissertations in various Potions magazines worldwide, under a different name, however, and he had to admit she had been, along with others, of course, one of the major influences in the recent development in the Magical Science of Potions. Yet Severus, never one to belittle his skills, was fairly sure he could have had just as much success and influence if he had attempted to publish some of his ideas and experiments. 

Ah well. Maybe sometime later. 

Curiously enough and unknown to Snape himself, Stella shared his view on that topic. She did recognize a real Potions Master when she met one and in her opinion, Severus Snape could be a famous one if he tried. But it was far from her to tell him that, even though his abilities had her reluctant admiration. She might have overcome her childish prejudices against Slytherins very long ago, but Severus Snape _had _been a Death Eater, after all and while she hadn't inquired about every single detail of the events of two years before when Sirius had escaped from Hogwarts on a Hippogriff, she could well imagine Snape had tried everything to do the worst possible harm to the man he hated with a passion. That was why she had settled on cool business-like behaviour. Indifference was always the safest way and it seemed that Snape agreed with her on that matter since their meetings passed usually in what you could term a polite fashion. 

Severus looked up as Stella entered the room. She could see his eyes flickering almost imperceptibly from her to one of the torches and after a brief moment of bewilderment, she realized he had to be wondering what the unusual colouring meant. She hadn't thought of the Slytherin house colours when she had had the torches lit before, but as the Head of Slytherin, Snape was bound to associate them with his House at once and wonder what the purpose of the change had been. 

_Well, let him wonder a little, _Stella thought mischievously, _might be good for him if he doesn't always know everything immediately. _

She grinned at the pale, dark-haired man in front of her and asked sweetly, "I see you appreciate the new system of lighting?"

Snape showed no reaction as he swung his gaze with pointed indifference to the torches.

"Ah," he responded with the same interest as if she had just announced the cousin of her grand-uncle had broken a fingernail yesterday. "I haven't really noticed."

At that, Stella felt vaguely impressed how he managed to make such a downright lie sound so convincing. She let her lips curl into a equable, unhurried smile and approached the table, all the while trying carefully not to trip over or bump into a chair as it sometimes happened when she was nervous. Because now, despite her serene outward appearance, her intestines seemed to be fluttering around like caged birds in the immediate vicinity of a hungry cat. Snape's presence seemed to evoke some sort of long-forgotten uneasiness she used to feel around people back when her self-confidence had been much lower. She had heard of Wilkes' death already, which only added to her uncertainty and she suspected that Snape knew he would be bringing her no news. Stella peered into his face to detect some signs of superiority and smugness about the fact that now she could rely only on him if she wanted first-hand, quality information about the Death Eater Circle.

Snape gazed back impassively, his face not giving away anything. Stella groaned inwardly of frustration. She had no desire whatsoever to talk to this man, much less about a topic that disturbing. However, she needed to know what was going on and therefore she sat down on a chair opposite of Severus and started her cross-examination, meticulously asking about every detail he could remember.

After Snape had finished his report, Stella leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to forget the headache that was enveloping her brain like an iron band and attempting instead to combine all the facts she had at her disposal.

Didn't Sean say something about an artefact having been stolen from the wizarding museum of Egypt?

Stella was positive it was the mysterious thing Malfoy and Wormtail had had to acquire for Voldemort. Snape supported her opinion when she voiced her suspicion in front of him because he thought it made sense. He recalled Lucius complaining about unbearable heat and, as he had put it, 'that damned incomprehensible language'. More importantly, he had mentioned the name of the stolen tool after the meeting when Severus had paid a visit to Malfoy Manor – the Pendant of Perdition. Apparently, Voldemort hadn't demanded absolute discretion amongst the Death Eater ranks concerning that pendant.

"The artefact is supposed to bring bad luck over its bearer," Stella mused, recalling what Sean had told her and regarding Snape's blank face with her narrowed, thoughtful eyes. "What use would he have for an object so moderately cursed? I mean, he could make that sort of thing more easily by himself."

Severus gave a one-shouldered shrug, tilting his head slightly to one side at the same time, a combination of movements Stella had come to know as characteristic about him. More than that, she found those particular motions kind of cute, which was, of course, irrelevant here. Besides, she had more important things to bear in mind than any of Snape's gestures, however attractive they might be.

"I assume this is not the sole function of that artefact," Severus said.

Stella nodded. "You're probably right. I shall make a research on it. How was it called again?"

"Pendant of Perdition," Snape answered with a twinge of annoyance at the fact that she apparently hadn't been listening properly and now had him repeat his words.

But then he spotted one side of her mouth curling up with mischief and realized she had irritated him deliberately while knowing the name perfectly well. Since there was no logical reason for such an action in the moment, he assumed that this was her hidden hostility shining through the armour of indifference. However, his assumption wasn't accurate. After yet another frustrating day, Stella had needed to lighten up her mood a little and since she had always found Snape's sour expression quite funny, she had seized the opportunity to tease him. With a grin, she bid him goodbye and left the room, expecting Snape to make his way to the bar again as he usually did after their meetings. 

***

"So there's more behind this Pendant of Perdition," Sean said. 

It was a statement, not a question.

Stella nodded. Having returned to the HQ from London, she had consulted her two Prime Generals immediately and both Sean and Amanda didn't think the suspicion of Voldemort having greater plans with a seemingly harmless artefact was groundless. Stella felt rather bad that she hadn't let somebody investigate thoroughly in the whole pendant-business, but as she was the Head of a spying organization, her other commitments had pushed the artefact a little into background.

Sean rose form his seat opposite Stella's.

"I shall pay a visit to the Cursed Objects Section in our library, then," he announced before Teleporting himself away, leaving the two women behind. 

After he was gone, Amanda turned her gaze on Stella and smiled conspiratorially.

"The thing you wanted arrived just after you'd parted for London," she told her cousin, raising her eye-brows meaningfully. 

Stella frowned with confusion, trying to guess what Amanda was referring to. "Erm…"

However, comprehension dawned on her as her cousin placed a narrow black box on Stella's desk.

An iron curtain of dispassion descended on Stella's face as she took the box. Amanda, however, wasn't fooled in the least. Of course, she couldn't hear Stella's heartbeats accelerating at the thought of the box's content, but she did notice her superior's hands trembling almost imperceptibly.

"Are you going to deliver it to him personally?" Amanda asked slyly, not able to hide a small grin as she continued. "You ought to. Precious things shouldn't be entrusted to simple birds."

Stella shot her an irritated glance. "You can trust me to have this delivered safely to the right hands, one way or the other, Amanda."

Her cousin shrugged innocently. "Just saying."

Stella didn't answer. She was trailing the edges of the box with her fingers, seemingly lost in thoughts and so she didn't even look up as Amanda, being considerate for once, left the office.

But she had been right. The content of the box was indeed precious, in fact, it was Sirius Black's wand, more exactly a replica thereof since the original one had been broken into pieces at the moment of his incarceration and locked away into a little 'cell' of its own.

Every official wandmaker is provided with a list of wands he is forbidden to recreate – wands of criminals, mostly. Of course, as a mage changed, so did his or her wand preferences. It was a rare occasion on which one wand lasted for an entire lifetime. But the old wands still fit better than random ones and this special prohibition was supposed to make it harder for wizarding criminals at large to have their wand duplication ordered by an accomplice. They had to either go to a wand-shop to choose by themselves or get a wrong wand chosen by someone else or remain completely wandless. Stella was quite sure Sirius hadn't been able to purchase a new wand yet. She was fairly certain he was doing fine without one, too, since he had always been good at wandless magic, but she could well imagine that Sirius, an enthusiastic spell-caster, sorely missed using a wand and the power he had had at his disposal with its assistance.

That's why she had paid a visit to an old Sicilian wandmaker several days before. Cesare Bianco didn't always walk on the right side of the law, no matter if it concerned wand-making or other things. Moreover, he was an avid collector of wands of famous and even more the infamous witches and wizards. Both facts had been aces in Stella's sleeve as she had gone to talk to Cesare. If the promise of a nice sum of Galleons and the former wand of Argentina's most dangerous criminal wizard hadn't have been enough to buy Bianco's silent consent of reproducing Sirius Black's wand, she would have had to show off her 'knowledge' about some of his secret activities a little. But it hadn't been necessary. Cesare had been most delighted by his customer who had used all the charm inherited from her Italian mother to persuade the wandmaker to accept her payment for his services. Her efforts hadn't been in vain. The Sicilian had promised _la belissima _to send the wand to her in a few days, everything being strictly confidential, _naturalmente!_

After all, what did he care if he armed the supposedly most dangerous British wizard apart from Lord Voldemort with his wand? 

It wasn't likely for Black to make some killing excursion to Sicily and Cesare was unscrupulous enough not to care about the British population in that aspect. He hadn't asked for the charming customer's name, but Stella's mastery of the Italian language had fooled him enough to think of her as one of his fellow citizens and had left him wondering mildly about why exactly an Italian witch – and a pretty and obviously wealthy one at that – might want to help a filthy British Azkaban escapee.

But Cesare wasn't somebody who's overly concerned with other people's motivations. He did, however, appreciate a good business partner and therefore had enclosed a short letter stating that he would be delighted to conclude business deals with her again if she was interested. Having finished reading, Stella put the letter away, smiling lightly to herself before her gaze fell onto the narrow box again.

_Are you going to deliver it personally? _Amanda's voice resounded in her brain.

Well, why not? It would be a pretext to pay Wolf's Castle a visit.

_A pretext, yeah, but not a very good one, _Stella thought resignedly and then shook her head slowly over her irrational desire of visiting Lupin's Lair. It was better to stay away from that spot, both for her and its current residents.

However, what would happen if she sent the box by owl and the bird got intercepted? The wand and the owl would be identified and traced back to her. And that, Stella decided, would be a severe scratch on her already battered trustworthiness.

****

"It's nice to see you, General Wraith." Donatella Miliano said, greeting her superior with a nod and a polite smile. "How can I help you?"

Sean flashed a bright smile in return, but Donatella's friendly yet strictly professional behaviour didn't change in the slightest. The Prime General suppressed a resigned sigh. This woman responded to his charms about as much as Voldemort might respond to the admonition of not to be such a bad guy and Sean had yet to find out why. He was used to women blushing under his gaze, staring after him, smiling seductively at him… But maybe his good looks were fading. Or perhaps this woman just didn't go for blonds.

After listening to Sean's request, Donatella vanished into the labyrinth of bookshelves, muttering research spells and left him waiting alone. She reappeared some ten minutes later, wearing an apologetic expression on her pretty features. 

"I am sorry," she said. "But I fear there is no reference to a Pendant of Perdition in our library."

Sean frowned, displeased at the news. "Hm. Could you maybe recommend me a book outside this library that might contain the information I seek?"

Donatella's face became thoughtful. "The only one I can think of would be a tome written by Merlin himself. Hogwarts Library hosts it, as far as I know. There are no other copies, so you will have to request it from there."

Sean nodded. That shouldn't be a problem. Black Star and Hogwarts had a borrowing agreement when it came to their libraries. He turned around and was on the verge of leaving just as he remembered to ask for the title.

"_Objects of Doom," Donatella said with a twinkle in her eyes that implied she was finding the title about as pathetic as Sean apparently did._

"Now that's cheerful," he commented, but the twinkle in Donatella's eyes had disappeared as swiftly as a Demiguise when you wanted to catch it. Sean gave a small sigh concerning Donatella's strict professionalism. Well. She hadn't been in Black Star for that long. Maybe the ice would break one day.

****

**_December, 1975_**  
  
It was Stella's fifth year, which meant that she should be actually working a bit more for school as she was going to take her OWLs. However, that fact didn't seem to trouble her. Instead of writing a Transfigurations essay, she was sitting in her favourite armchair, the cosiest one and nearest to the fire, engrossed in a tome she had found in the Library by accident, seeing that she had been originally looking for _The Standard Book_ _of Spells, Grade 5_, as her copy seemed to have vanished somehow. The book she had borrowed instead was called _Objects of Salvation_ and was supposed to contain a reference to every positively enchanted object in the magical world that had ever been crafted and discovered. As she had been reading the text on the back of the tome, Stella found out that it had a negative equivalent, so to speak, which was called _Objects of Doom_. However, upon seeing that name, Stella was instantly sure that this one was in the Restricted Section and thus out of her current reach. She would be extremely interested to have a look at it, but as she had been caught by McGonagall in the Restricted Section without a pass note and got detention as well as severe reprimanding, she wasn't keen to be spotted anywhere in the vicinity of that place in the near future. It wouldn't do well in a CV if she was expelled without having even taken the OWLs. Of course, there existed other schools, but Stella had grown very fond of Hogwarts and would have been reluctant to leave it before the moment of her graduation.  
She began to leaf through the book, passing artefacts like the Boots of Polarity and the Garniture of Interference, both offering magical resistance to the bearer. Stella wondered briefly if they negated every sort of magic. If so, then they would have to be really powerful. She also saw various pendants mentioned, like the Pendant of Free Will, which made the bearer immune to the Imperius Curse and the Pendant of Total Recall that would leave the bearer unaffected by any existing Memory Charm. After passing the Orb of Permanence, which had the effect of prolonging the duration of spells, Stella's eyes arrived at a paragraph that was dealing with three artefacts called Sentry Spheres.

The Sentry Spheres, comprising the Sphere of Sanctity, the Sphere of Salvation and the Sphere of Sacredness, whose whereabouts are currently unknown, were created by the ancient Greek wizard named Phaidros, who strove to put a halt to his evil contemporary Xenocrates, who, in turn, tried to seize the power on the Greek Isles with the help of an artefact on his own, namely the – 

Suddenly, Stella felt the back of her neck tingling, a reliable indication that Black was once again gazing over her shoulder. He was doing this quite often these times, always seeming to want to know what she was reading and it made her really edgy. What the hell was he playing at?  
She closed the book with a loud SNAP! and rounded on Sirius who was indeed standing behind her back and now looking slightly put out at the fact that she had made it impossible for him to read on.  
"What?!" Stella snapped, annoyed that he always seemed to be lurking somewhere around her.  
He made a reproachful face. "Why did you have to shut it? I was reading that."  
"Don't give me that plaintive tone, it doesn't work on me. Anyway, what has made you think that I would allow you to read this book with me?"  
Ignoring her, Sirius craned his neck to get a look at the front cover.  
"_Objects of Salvation_, eh?" he smirked. "How melodramatic. I'm not surprised it's yours."  
Stella narrowed her eyes. "Actually, I found it in the Hogwarts Library and well, tell me, Oh Ingenious One, how would you call a book that deals with positively enchanted objects?"  
"What about _The Compendium of Positively Enchanted Objects_?" Sirius suggested, not entirely unreasonably, but Stella was having none of it.  
"Not as expressive, is it?" she responded haughtily. "But I expected nothing else from someone like you."  
"Someone like me?" Sirius repeated her words meditatively, his eyes getting one of the sort of glints Stella was almost instantly suspicious of. "What does that mean? It's awfully vague, Decartier, _ma chère_. Care to elaborate?"  
Stella grimaced at him, ignoring his question. "Oh, please. Don't try to speak French, it sounds horrible coming out of your mouth."  
"Fine," Sirius said, unbothered. "Teach me how to say it properly, then."   
He leaned against the back of the armchair with crossed arms and grinned down on Stella who was beginning to feel rather weird. Now what was this about? Getting increased attention from Sirius Black couldn't possibly be good.  
Confused, Stella forgot to give her next words the necessary sharpness. "Look, I'd really like to continue reading in peace. Why don't you just go away and leave me alone?" she said, startling herself as she realized how friendly she sounded.  
Black, of course, noticed the unusually soft tone and took advantage of it. He left his position at the back of the chair and sat down on one of the armrest, thus getting unexpectedly close to Stella, who stared at him, her rising suspicion mingling with bewilderment.  
She bent her head over the book to avoid his unflinching gaze and, muttered resignedly, feeling suddenly not quite up to fighting with him, "Just say what you want, Black and then leave me alone."   
She heard rather than saw Sirius shaking his head. "I don't know what your problem is. I merely wanted to know what you were reading and then I asked you how to pronounce a French expression since I know you're fluent in that language. That can hardly be counted as a nuisance or something and you acted as if it was."  
Stella raised her head and gazed into his face, intent on displaying an expression of intense dislike. She could only hope she had managed it, after all, she was still recovering from the confusion about Black's weird behaviour.  
"You are nuisance impersonated, so don't be surprised when I want to get rid of you. Honestly, one would think that you've got the message already, judging by the times I had to stop you driving me crazy by reading over my shoulder in the past," she said sharply and was surprised as Sirius pressed his lips together and a fleeting look of affront at her words appeared on his face.   
"Oh, I am infinitely sorry about my ghastly behaviour, Your Highness," he replied, sarcasm lacing his words. "Will you refrain from chaining me up in the dungeons if I swear on the lives of my unborn children that it will never happen again?"   
He had stood up and his eyes were flashing dangerously. However, Stella had regained her grounds and refused to be intimidated.  
"A simple promise will suffice, servant," she answered with a superior grin, watching with glee as Sirius turned on the heel wordlessly and headed out of the Common Room with angry strides.  
  


****

**_August, 1995_**

****

Sean Teleported himself into Stella's office, making her flinch at his sudden appearance. 

She raised her eyebrows inquiringly and then pressed her lips together in disappointment when her gaze fell on Sean's empty hands.

"No success, hm?" she asked quietly, her shoulders sagging.

Sean cocked his head slightly to the left side, eyeing his superior in bewilderment. Okay, the Pendant of Perdition was probably a key instrument in Voldemort's plan of gaining more power, but even so, Stella seemed uncharacteristically downcast about their lack of progress. Weird… unless she had something else to be depressed about.

Sean crossed the room and walked around Stella's desk to come standing behind her chair. He extended his hands and started massaging her neck, worrying not for the first time at its continual stiffness. Bending his head towards Stella's ear, he murmured softly, "What is troubling you so much, _ma petite_?"

She leaned her head against his tiredly and closed her eyes.

"Other than Voldemort's deeds and his plans that are still unknown to us and the constant fear about people I love, you mean?" she asked, letting bitterness permeate her voice, which rarely happened. "I hate having no clue whatsoever… being so helpless," she continued wearily.

Sean attempted to give his voice a reassuring tone. "We won't be clueless much longer. Signorina Miliano told me there should be a reference to the Pendant of Perdition in _Objects of Doom which is in Hogwarts Library. All we have to do is to contact Madam Pince and request the book. I'm sure we will learn the relevant facts about that artefact with its help."_

Stella sighed, unconvinced. "Wish I had your confidence," she said listlessly, extracting herself from Sean's half-embrace and walked over to the fireplace. "I shall talk to Pince, then."

Her tone implied Sean's dismissal and so he left, refraining from asking her about the real reason for her subdued mood. His gaze slid over the narrow black box on Stella's desk, but as he didn't know she had ordered Sirius's wand, Sean didn't place the presence of the box in any context with Stella's behaviour. Very unlike himself, he used the door to leave the office, closing it carefully so as not to disturb his friend who was waiting for the connection between the Black Star Headquarters and Hogwarts to establish itself.

***

Sirius was lying sprawled on his favourite sofa in Remus' drawing room, humming Muggle songs, now considered as oldies, to himself, engrossed in _O__bjects of Doom _that Remus had so kindly obtained for him. The 'Lord of Lupin's Lair' was currently busying himself in the kitchen and since he had refused to let Sirius help him on the grounds that he would have eaten the food before it would even be ready, Sirius had had to find something to occupy himself with. The kids were no go because they were doing their holiday homework.

Sirius snorted disbelievingly. _Homework! On such a wonderful, sunny day!_

Evidently, Hermione was the dominant person in the Trio.

Shaking his head, Sirius concentrated on his book again. It had taken him awhile to get to the Pendant of Perdition because he couldn't resist reading about most of the cursed objects preceding the one he had been originally looking for. He passed the 'Hourglass of the Evil Hour', a minor artefact that brought bad luck over the bearer and the 'Orb of Vulnerability' that made the opponent's Protection Spells and Shielding Charms useless in a duel. The latter was a relic and its whereabouts were currently unknown.

Having finally arrived at the P-section, Sirius found that there were quite a few Pendants – the 'Pendant of Dispassion', the 'Pendant of Insomnia' being just two of them. At last the page with the Pendant of Perdition lay before Sirius eyes. He bent closer to the rather short paragraph and read.

_The Pendant of Perdition is believed to be a creation of Xenocrates, a Greek wizard of the first century B.C. who wanted to establish his power over the resident wizarding families of the Greek Isles with its help. The Pendant of Perdition, once activated, strips every magical protection from the people and buildings in its vicinity within minutes and makes it impossible to re-activate them for a certain period of time which is still unknown. The powers of this pendant aren't fully determined yet as the only clue to them is given by a manuscript of Xenocrates himself, which is kept rather vague. Xenocrates never actually had the chance to use this artefact, however, seeing that he died in a storm at the sea. The Pendant of Perdition sank with him and was believed to be lost until it appeared on the Egyptian coast centuries later. It has been claimed by the Egyptian wizarding museum and has been kept there ever since then._

The paragraph ended with that sentence and left Sirius sitting there, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. The Pendant made him nervous. Suppose you could take down any ward effortlessly within minutes and rid your opponents of any magical protection they might have on themselves. Suppose you would take advantage of that ability. Suppose you were Voldemort…

Sirius gave a small shudder. That was not a very reassuring prospect. Not reassuring at all.

_But, _Sirius reminded himself, _the fact that it was stolen doesn't have to signify that it was Voldemort or his minions who did it. Still, I'll talk to Remus and see what he thinks about it. 'Cause frankly, I've quite a bad feeling about this._

He stood up and stretched, listening to the noises coming from the kitchen. Remus didn't sound finished yet, but that was fine with Sirius. It would give him the opportunity to make a short, relaxing stroll through the forest that surrounded Lupin's Lair before dinner.

****

"What do you mean, it's not available?" Stella snapped irritably at the face in the fire.

Madam Pince frowned at this assault, which gave her a rather menacing look and thus made Stella remember who she was talking to. The Hogwarts Librarian was one of the few people who commanded Stella's ultimate involuntary respect. As she met Madam Pince's steely gaze, Stella began to feel like a timid, unimportant first-year again. 

She cursed herself for it, but that didn't help and so she amended herself with an apologetic look on her face, "Er, what I wanted to say is that, um, could you possibly tell me who has borrowed it?"

However, Madam Pince didn't look any less forbidding.

"Please?" Stella added as an afterthought, flashing her most charming smile and sighing inwardly with relief as Madam Pince answered grumpily that Ms Decartier was lucky to be in possession of Dumbledore's authorisation to have insight into such classified information.

"The book is currently at Mr. Remus Lupin's in…" she began, but Stella cut her off, unpleasantly surprised.

"I know where Mr. Lupin lives, thank you," she told the Librarian curtly. "Have a nice day."

The connection broke and Madam Pince went back to her work, shaking her head over certain people's bad temper and sheer incredible rudeness.

Stella remained seated in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames with furrowed brows. This couldn't possibly be a coincidence. Alright, Remus was a Defence Against the Dark Arts freak and it wasn't all that surprising he had borrowed a tome that was supposed to be the best compendium on Cursed Objects in Europe, but the fact that he had done it now suggested he might be trying to find out something about the Pendant of Perdition, too.

_But why? _Stella wondered. _Would Remus know about the connection to Voldemort? Not all the members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix get all the information Albus himself has. _

In fact, Stella privately thought that the Order was a little disorganised. But who was she to criticise? Her leading of Black Star couldn't be called well-organised, either. However, it worked well with her organization, a fact of which Stella wasn't sure when it came to the Order of the Phoenix. After all, she wouldn't be surprised if Remus had merely read the newspaper article about the robbery in the Egyptian wizarding museum and had got curious enough to investigate further.

Of course, there was a very direct way to find out – asking the man himself while retrieving the book. 

Stella turned her gaze to the skies. "Why me? Why does this always happen to me?"

Seeing that she needed _Objects of Doom as quickly as possible, she couldn't owl Remus, asking to send her the book immediately. Of course, she could order any of her employees to get it, but the less people knew the exact location of Lupin Castle and about its current residents, the better._

The only ones she could really ask to do it were Sean or Amanda and Stella was quite sure that both would refuse, telling her to confront her inner demons and feelings and not to be a coward, blah, blah. Amanda would certainly add that it would be a perfect occasion to bring Sirius his wand and the worst of all was that everything the two Prime Generals would say would be true and sensible.

How Stella hated to be sensible.

But on the plus side, she would see Harry again, whom she knew to be currently visiting his godfather and his former professor.

Stella had no idea whatsoever why her decision to grace Lupin's Lair with her presence was so firm all of a sudden. She had often thought about it in the past, but had never really got around to or rather, hadn't had the guts to do so.

Now, however, several reasons spoke for the trip and so Stella decided to conquer her fears and confront her unresolved past in the form of her once-best friend, her ex-lover and the son of her dead best girl-friend.

At those thoughts, Stella felt her determination begin to waver. Did she really want to see all those people again and face them?

"Sean…," she called through the Vocatus-net in such a small, miserable voice that her friend Teleported himself into her office immediately. After hearing Stella's account of her situation, he looked at her thoughtfully.

"Well…," he began and then let his voice become firm, tolerating no contradiction. "You will go, of course."

"Will I?" Stella seemed less than thrilled at the prospect.

"Yes," Sean confirmed, adamance personified. "You're a grown woman and therefore, you should be able to resolve your private problems alone, as we all do."

She gave him a sceptical glance. "If you say so."

He nodded. "I do say so. How will you travel?"

"Dunno… Portkey to London – again – and then broomstick, I guess," she answered, the lack of enthusiasm clearly showing through in her voice.

Sean gave her a cheerful smile. "A bit more spirit, please! You're not going to your execution!"

Stella threw him a dirty look. "Perhaps not, but if you continue to be so bloody cheerful, _you will be!"_

She grabbed the thin black box from her desk and Teleported herself away, leaving Sean, who was grinning to himself, alone in her office.

****

Stella's mind was void, but it wasn't an after-effect of the Portkey-trip she had just made.

Sitting in the _Dancing Dragon, where all the Black Star- London- Portkeys led, she tried to concentrate on what she should do next. No success. Stella didn't seem to be able to collect her thoughts to craft even the most basic plan._

Getting to Lupin's Lair and meeting Remus and the kids wasn't much of a problem. She was quite sure she would manage that somehow. Sirius, on the other hand…

Of course, Stella couldn't even count the times she had imagined meeting him again in the past fourteen years. The occasions on which those meetings had taken place had been as various as Stella's and imaginary Sirius's behaviour.

She had played through so many scenarios that she had no idea how to behave at the actual meeting. Should she confront him with icy silence? Ignore him completely? Should she act as if he was an old friend who she happened to run into? Should she wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him breathless? Or should she curse him straight to hell?

Feeling completely at a loss what to do, Stella sipped her drink – an _Albine's Breath_, her favourite. It was silvery-blue, very cold and the vapour that ascended from it resembled the light-blue smoke that usually protruded from the nostrils of a Canadian Albine Dragon.

However, not even this King of Drinks helped Stella to decide how to behave towards Sirius.

_Take half a glass of unresolved business, two teaspoons of anger, two of longing, a gist of resentment, a generous shot of fear and uncertainty and round it off nicely with some tablespoons of love, how many exactly, I don't know_, Stella thought, _and you'll get the Ultimate Drink Of The Situation. _My _situation, to be precise._

She eyed the now empty glass in her hand moodily and pondered whether to order _Fireball_, a highly… well, energizing drink. But then again, if she turned up at Lupin's Lair behaving like a lunatic monkey escaped from a circus, Sirius might not take her seriously. On the plus side, it would be a situation she hadn't imagined before.

Her common sense having finally got the better of her, Stella resolved to take off without another drink. She would be needing a clear mind for what was awaiting her.

****

Stella soared through the air, carefully covered by an Invisibility Spell and barely resisting the urge to sing. She had almost forgotten how freeing such a broomstick trip could be. If you concentrated only on the mere act of flying, the problems you had had looming over you like rain clouds would recede – however, only until you were on the ground again, of course.

After a couple of hours, Stella spotted the hill on which Lupin Castle was built and decided to make herself less conspicuous. She didn't know the safety precautions on the Castle in every detail, but she assumed there was a ward against aerial intruders. Moreover, she didn't want to be noticed too soon, which could easily happen even despite the Invisibility Spell, depending on what sort of detecting devices Remus had at his disposal and so Stella dived into the forest below that surrounded the Castle.

Forcing her broom into a steeper angle, she plunged into a gap between the trees which had been large enough for her to pass through. Within seconds, Stella found herself in a tangle of branches and leaves that made it impossible to see more than three feet ahead.

She realized with a pang of anxiety that her flying skills might be a little rusty for pulling stunts such as crossing a forest of many healthy, full-grown trees. Apart from overestimating her abilities, she was flying in a very unfavourable angle and velocity, only barely managing to pull out the dive without getting unseated by one of the branches in the process.

Stella's reflexes were slower than they had used to be, but not altogether gone. Gripping the broomstick handle with both hands and concentrating all her senses on her surroundings and possible obstacles, Stella tried to slow down and descend to the ground without getting pierced through or beaten senseless by the branches.

She had just dodged a particularly nasty-looking spiky one when suddenly, her breakneck flight was stopped with a violent jerk that left Stella breathless for a few seconds. When she was able to take in her surroundings again, she realized with an unpleasant lurch in her stomach that she was hanging among the trees only by her robes that had got tangled with the branches and thus had forced her to come to an abrupt halt.

Stella's mind raced, but it wasn't fast enough to come up with the obvious solution for a Switcher – transforming into a cat or a bird and get to the ground easily.

_Rrrip…_

The robes tore a mere moment later and with a muffled cry, Stella fell down, only to be stopped by a branch a few feet lower. She gripped it tightly and wanted to reanalyze her position, but suddenly, the branch gave in under her weight, leaving no more obstacles in the way down.

Stella hit the ground with her bottom, but the force of the impact threw her backwards, so that she found herself lying on the forest ground covered with grass, moss and leaves, her heart beating wildly, but apparently still alive and quite unharmed, as it seemed. Very slowly, she sat up and checked her body for injuries. Her hands were still trembling with shock and as she noticed, very scratched. With sudden panic, she touched her face and discovered many little bruises and cuts she hadn't noticed during the 'flight'. 

_Of course, I can count myself lucky I didn't break a leg or something, _she thought, _but how am I going to face Sirius when I'm in such a state?_

With her anti-talent in Healing Magic, she wasn't able to heal a mere cut!

Groaning with utter hopelessness, she let herself fall back into the leaves. High above her head, she saw her robe hanging, completely torn.

"Damned thing!" she said angrily. "Why in hell did I pay hundreds of galleons for your bloody label if your material's absolute crap?!"

Her gaze fell on her broomstick that had been drilled into the trunk of a nearby tree and seemed to be on the verge of splitting in half. A wave of hot anger at her difficult situation rose in Stella's chest, combining itself with the overwhelming tension she had been feeling all the time because of the upcoming meeting and forming a veil of uncontrollable rage that descended onto Stella's mind, making her completely oblivious to her surroundings.

With a swift movement, she picked up the branch that had broken under her and smashed it against the tree in front of her with all the force she could muster. It broke and the tree trembled almost imperceptibly. But Stella didn't have enough. She summoned a thicker branch and continued to hit the tree, her anger giving her enough strength to curse incessantly in all the languages she could speak and all those she didn't actually speak, but knew the expletives of.

Stella continued smashing the branch against the tree until she was left totally without breath from the physical activity combined with profuse swearing. 

As she couldn't think of any more curses, she just kicked the tree and told it in a voice raw with angry emotions, "There you go, you stupid, fucking tree! Hope you will rot in hell!"

 Even as she was saying it, the childishness and irrationality of her overall behaviour became clear to her. After all, this tree would rot, if anywhere, in this forest and it wasn't like Stella's situation was its fault, in fact, everything that had happened had been caused by a severe miscalculation of her flying skills. But in that moment, Stella didn't give a damn about sensible explanations.

Breathless, but with adrenaline still surging through her veins, she turned around to find something else to let steam off on and…

…froze, completely paralyzed.

Apparently, she hadn't been alone during her outburst. 

A few yards away from her, a tall man with black hair and dark eyes was leaning casually against a tree trunk, arms crossed in front of his chest, having a distinctive air of amusement around himself.

Stella swallowed, her eyes never leaving his face in which his lips were twitching, as if he was barely stifling a grin.

This wasn't happening. She must have had a concussion and now she was hallucinating, because this couldn't be… But even as she thought that, she knew it was him, standing mere yards away from her after being unattainable for years…

Revelling in Stella's shock and disbelief, Sirius couldn't resist and so at last, he grinned his characteristic lop-sided grin that Stella had long ago grown to love. It that moment, however, it inspired different sentiments in her.

She glared at him, putting her hands to her hips. "Don't you dare laughing at me, Sirius Black!"

He grinned even more broadly and of course, started chuckling.

"Sorry," Sirius told her, his voice making Stella's racing heart beat even faster. "You just… look like a sulking little girl after a fight with some leaf-monsters," he continued, stepping a little closer and seizing her up carefully.

Stella recalled a certain Herbology lesson that had included leaf-monsters, rather cute beings despite their name that wouldn't attack anyone unless really provoked. Feeling suddenly self-conscious and timid under his scrutinizing gaze, Stella blushed and began to pull out twigs and leaves out of her messy hair.

"Don't." 

Sirius's voice made her stop in mid-movement. He couldn't tear his eyes off her. Amidst the trees in the muted light of the forest, with her cheeks flushed from the earlier rush of adrenaline and now even more reddened out of embarrassment and with her deep greenish-brown eyes, she had never looked more beautiful to him.

"I never said that the Post-fighting-leaf-monsters-look didn't suit you," he added with a light smile, pitching his voice lower.

It seemed to Stella that his words reverberated through her whole body, touching places in her soul that had lain abandoned for a very long time. She was at a loss on what to do. She didn't want to think…

"You're beautiful, Stella," Sirius whispered, very quietly, but she could hear him clearly because now he was standing only two steps away from her.

Stella raised her head and looked at him directly. He wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, he was staring at her with his dark eyes that had caused her so much pain in the past, but that still had the power to make her feeling weak and strong at the same time, to invoke strange, wild happiness as well as deepest sadness. They had so much power over her and yet that fact didn't scare Stella as much as it should have, for it was power that came with love, the strongest force in the world.

They held each other's gazes for what seemed to be an eternity, though it probably were only seconds. Both were torn between longing and fear. Fear of the consequences if they gave in to their heart's desire, fear of the unknown, fear of the unpredictable, of all the things that might be lost already and forever…

"Sirius…," Stella began, but her voice failed her.

And at this precise moment he made his decision. He would risk it, he just had to. Slowly, Sirius raised his hand and reached out for Stella, giving her enough time to back away if she wanted to, but she held her breath and didn't move. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it would burst. She still couldn't entirely believe what was happening.

Sirius's hand was trembling, but he didn't care. Lightly, he touched her cheek, his eyes not leaving hers. It was as if this simple touch had broken a hidden spell. The invisible barrier between them crashed down soundlessly. Stella crossed the remaining space that separated them, flung her arms around Sirius… and was hugged back immediately.

She rested her head on his shoulder and felt his face being pressed against her hair. They were both shaking, but as they embraced each other more tightly in order to comfort the other, the trembling gradually subsided and left the two of them standing silently in the middle of the forest, oblivious to everything else but themselves. In that long moment, nothing mattered except for that special kind of sheer overwhelming, yet strangely quiet joy that floods the whole being. It was like drowning in a warm sea of pleasantness and security… like returning home after years of exile.

Stella didn't know how long they had been standing there and she didn't care. She was afraid to release him due to the fear that someone might come and take him away from her again. However, she banished those thoughts out of her mind. Nothing would ruin this moment in which Sirius belonged only to her and she to him. She closed her eyes, abandoning her fears and concentrating on the present, on the feel of Sirius' shoulders under her hands (her heart contracted painfully as she realized how thin he was), the smell of his clothes which was the same as years ago (evidently, Remus had kept some of his friend's old clothes), the rhythm of his heartbeat that was, for her, the most reassuring sound in the world, his breath on her neck that sent shivers down her spine…

Sirius could feel her hugging him more tightly and responded readily, infinitely happy she hadn't recoiled from him as he had feared she might have done. He felt a little dazed that after so many years of unfulfilled yearning, he could really hold her in his arms. However, even though Sirius had changed over the past years, he was still himself and therefore dared to move a little closer and place a light kiss the curve of Stella's neck. She shivered, but pleasantly so and turned her face towards his, smiling playfully as she placed some equally light and strategic kisses near his lips. He let her go on for the time of a few heartbeats, closing his eyes and savouring the moments. As she moved to place a particularly enticing kiss on the left corner on his mouth, he turned his head quickly and transformed the soft touch into a tender, truly magical kiss. That was all they would need their lips for at the moment. There would be enough time for words later.

****

_A/N: So, you've got the meeting you've been waiting for and I'm very curious about your reactions *hint, hint* - please review!_


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